


maybe you'll be there

by vtforpedro



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Chance Meetings, Falling In Love, Feel-good, Fluff and Humor, Gentle Sex, Happy Credence Barebone, Healing, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Or is it magic, POV Original Percival Graves, Smitten Original Percival Graves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:34:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27694900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vtforpedro/pseuds/vtforpedro
Summary: In which Percival Graves finds a message in a bottle, written by a young man looking for answers in the ocean’s waves, that will change the course of both of their lives.
Relationships: Credence Barebone/Original Percival Graves
Comments: 26
Kudos: 61





	maybe you'll be there

It’s a cold day in Stranraer, grey clouds overhead, promising rain this evening. The smell of brine is strong here, as Graves stands on the edge of a pier, leaning against a wooden post and looking out over the sea.  
  
He’s been in Scotland for two weeks now and has a portkey home tomorrow. The Auror department in London had requested aid from the German Ministry and MACUSA, which have the largest Auror departments in the wizarding world, in helping to stop a growing movement led by a handful of dangerous people. It’s been hell tracking them down but a larger presence of Aurors on the streets meant nothing was getting by them anymore.  
  
It came to a head two nights ago and they weren’t easy arrests. There had been a fight, a deadly one for their side, and they’ve got their own injured in the hospital. They’ll be fine but the dead wizard was one of the Dark Arts practitioners that Graves wanted alive because he had information, more than his accomplices.  
  
But that’s how it goes sometimes. Graves is only glad it’s over and the Ministry of Magic feels they’ve got a handle on things now that the worst of them are locked away in cells. Abagnale is in the hospital and won’t be out for three or four days, when it’s safe for him to travel by portkey, and Graves knows it’ll be a good day when he gets back into the department. No one’s ever really settled when one of their own is in the hospital from work-related injuries.  
  
Graves is tired and ready for his own damn bed. It’s too cold for May, too rainy, and though the air is fresher and the sea is beautiful, he’s missing skyscrapers.  
  
His hotel is only a few miles away and Fontaine is there, likely waiting for him so they can get a few whiskeys in the lounge, but Graves is enjoying the solitude, for at least a little while.  
  
He’s been surrounded by numerous people all day, every day, and the sound of the waves and the smell of salt and seaweed and the sharpness of wet rock and metal below him calm the adrenaline he’s sure has been coursing through his veins for the past two days.  
  
Successful days, but the fight had been something they wanted to avoid and he’s only grateful he didn’t lose anyone.  
  
A gentle tinkling of glass distracts him from his thoughts and Graves frowns as he glances over the pier and at the rocks below it. It takes him a moment to see it, a glass bottle stuck in a hollow between two rocks, the stormy blue of the sea making it blend in. But there’s something inside of it too, something lighter, and Graves is entirely sure it’s trash but he holds out his hand anyway.  
  
The bottle gently comes loose from the hollow and lifts out of the water slowly, until it hangs in the air in front of him.  
  
Graves chuckles a little in disbelief.  
  
He’s not sure he’s ever even seen a message in a bottle.  
  
It’s a glass milk bottle, sealed well, and there’s thick parchment inside, rolled up tight. It’s slightly yellowed on the edges and he suspects it’s been there for a while. Graves backs away and he doesn’t touch the bottle, but he gets it over the pier and unseals it.  
  
There are no traces of curse magic on it, something that’s always on his mind, so he’s not particularly worried.  
  
The seal breaks on the top and he pulls out a cork that was put in before he gestures at the parchment, which zooms upward in front of him and unrolls itself, presenting a long letter in three pages. Graves reads.  
  
 _Dear stranger, wherever you might be,_ _  
__  
__I never thought I’d write a message in a bottle. I think I am now because of the whimsy of it, the hope that comes with it in the books I read, and because I’m at a loss. I’ve been that way for most of my life and it’s nothing new to me but this is a different sort of loss than I’ve ever experienced._ _  
__  
__I grew up in Manhattan, New York, in a church. My mother is an unkind woman, a religious fanatic who believes witches exist and wants to burn them at the stake. Second Salemers is what she called her philanthropic society. I don’t think Salem is a time in our history anyone should be proud of._ _  
__  
__As it turns out, I am a witch. You may not believe me and maybe the word wizard sounds even more strange, but I am one. I found out when I was eleven years old after being able to do strange things. Magic, as it turned out. She tried to punish it out of me and said it was the Devil’s work. I believed her for a time, especially when I never went to school the way I was promised I could. I ran away when I was fourteen and never looked back. I’m happy to be away from there but I wandered into the hands of the wrong people, people who took advantage of my naivety and my lack of skills in most areas of life._ _  
__  
__They taught me how to do their work, most of it illegal. But I had a wand, though you may not believe me about that either and maybe that’s best for someone who has never seen magic. I don’t blame you if you think I’m mad. I only tell you this because it’s part of my journey. I hope you’ll continue it with me._ _  
__  
__When I was seventeen I ran away from those people too. I left New York and found myself in many places across all of America. I didn’t fit in anywhere but I worked where I could and saved. I painted and sketched for wealthy people and worked other odds and ends. I made enough money to leave America because if I didn’t belong there, where else could I but beyond it?_ _  
__  
__I’ve been across a lot of Europe. London first, Paris after and the French countryside, a few places in Italy and Austria. Vienna is beautiful but I’m starting to think that maybe I don’t belong anywhere because I felt like I made it less beautiful. I don’t think I deserved it._ _  
__  
__Nordic countries were cold in more than one way for me and I went west again, but not far. Liverpool and Edinburgh. I met people in Edinburgh who told me I could find work across the North Channel in Belfast. I came to Ireland when I was twenty-six years old._ _  
__  
__I’m twenty-eight as I write this and I might be more lost than I’ve ever been. Sometimes I wonder if it would have been better to stay with my mother, no matter what it cost me. Other people like me haven’t been kind, not in Belfast. But I found work in a pub and it was steady and quiet for a while._ _  
__  
__A year ago I was attacked in the street by people similar to me. Two men helped me to fight them off and they bought me dinner after. I thought it was out of kindness. I suppose I was still naive. They came to the pub two nights later and said I owed them a favor and a payment for the protection they offered me that night. They forced the owner to pay them to protect the pub as well. He told me they were gangsters and likely set up the attack to buy that end of the street._ _  
__  
__I do work for them sometimes but I want to be normal. I want to live a normal life with normal people. I’m tired of these kinds of people, who I can never seem to escape._ _  
__  
__The few friends I’ve made here have been threatened if I go to law enforcement. If I leave they threaten the same thing. They’ll kill them and if I leave they’ll kill me too. I’d like to believe I could escape and get my friends to safety but it’s too much to ask of them. It’s too much to ask for anyone to entirely change their lives for me. I’m stuck and I don’t know how to get unstuck. I don’t like helping these people and I don’t like who I am because of it. Because I should have known better._ _  
__  
__How do I protect my friends? I don’t see them anymore and there are no more friendly faces in my life. Not for a long time now._ _  
__  
__So I suppose I’m looking to the sea. I’ve heard that people who stare at the horizon for long enough, where earth meets sky, are given the answers they seek. That hasn’t happened to me. Sometimes I look at the cliffs, more beautiful than anything I’ve seen, and wonder if that’s an answer._ _  
__  
__Our minds go to strange places when we’re cornered and see no way to escape. I don’t know if you’ll understand that or not, but I hope that anyone who reads my story might._ _  
__  
__I’m looking to the sea anyway. Maybe this bottle will sink or break no matter how much I try to protect it and no one will ever read this. But maybe you are reading this and maybe you know a way. Maybe the sea can tell me the answer through you as you look at the horizon._ _  
__  
__It may be years after I’ve written this that you find it. I hope by then I’ll have found an answer for myself, whatever it may be. If not, maybe you can have a little hope for me too. The hope of a kind stranger is enough, if that’s not too much to ask._ _  
__  
__I’m looking at the waves right now and I hope you’re enjoying the same sight. I hope my letter hasn’t dimmed the beauty of it and that you can find whatever you might be looking for in the waves too._ _  
__  
__The address below is mine as of writing this. Maybe one day I’ll hear a knock on my door and see you._ _  
__  
__If not I wish the sea and the horizon have brought you peace today. I wish you well, whoever you are, and ask that you remember to watch the sunrise once in a while, because I think that it offers hope no matter how dire things may be. That’s how I feel when I watch it._ _  
__  
__Yours,_ _  
__  
__Credence Barebone_ _  
__  
__11-27-28_ _  
_  
Graves stares down at the letter for a long while. He reads it again once he’s moved past the initial shock of it, the shock of seeing a fellow wizard’s words written like this, a reminder of what life can dole out.  
  
It’s not a lie, it’s not dark magic or a trap. Graves knows this, has been at his work too long to not recognize those things. It’s pain, written plainly and openly, pain he’s familiar with, in some ways. Pain that he has only managed to stumble upon.  
  
There are many Credence Barebones in the world and Graves knows there always will be and he’ll never be able to stop it entirely. Can’t get everyone out of a bad situation because he’s often there after tragedy strikes, not before, other departments focus on that, and most people he manages to save never lived this sort of life. He prevents some deaths, saves some lives, but not in this way.  
  
Graves realizes he has grabbed the parchment at some point and he moves to the edge of the pier, sitting down and leaning back against the strong wood that keeps it standing tall.  
  
He reads the letter again before he looks out at the sea, at the waves, at the horizon that was bringing him peace after a long two weeks.  
  
Credence Barebone has had a long twenty-eight years.  
  
The message isn’t years old. It’s nearly six months old, but not years, and Graves hopes that Credence has found a way out. But he knows that’s a hard thing to do when people’s lives are on the line, people you love and care about, as a result of you.  
  
Even if it wasn’t your fault.  
  
Graves is familiar with gangsters buying streets with the offer of protection for various reasons, smuggling and storing illegally purchased goods, both in the wizarding world and the no-maj one. New York City is riddled with members of the mafia and street gangsters. He’s seen this exact thing happen to others and he knows that Ireland is in the middle of its own hell in the no-maj world, which inevitably affects the wizarding world as well. Criminals will always take advantage of no-majs in dire straits.  
  
He looks up at the sky as he hears a distant rumble of thunder. The sun is setting behind the clouds, a small dash of white and pink shining through grey and Graves listens to the waves.  
  
Wonders what to do. What he can do.  
  
He knows what his heart is telling him to do. His gut instinct too. He doesn’t know if it’s the anguish he felt in those words or the fact that Credence is a fellow wizard. He doesn’t know if it’s simply because they share Manhattan in common and he thinks Eliza might say _that’s a handy coincidence._  
  
Graves stands and shrinks the bottle, putting it in his pocket. He rolls the parchment papers up and puts them in his breast pocket under his coat. He Disapparates then, back to the hotel, and walks through the lobby after he’s stepped inside. A glance at the lounge shows him Fontaine has already started drinking and Graves joins him.  
  
He sits next to him and orders a double of whiskey.  
  
“Thought you might have flung yourself over the pier,” Fontaine says.  
  
Graves tries not to think of the letter. “Sometimes I get tired of looking at you,” he says mildly. Fontaine snorts and Graves takes the whiskey after the bartender sets it in front of him. He takes a drink and savors the smoothness of it. “We need to go to Belfast.”  
  
Fontaine stares at Graves before he sighs heavily, hanging his head and shaking it. “And why the fuck do we need to go to Belfast?”  
  
“To aid our fellow wizards from shit people doing shit things.”  
  
“Did a mermaid give you the orders?”  
  
“A message in a bottle, actually.”  
  
Fontaine barks a laugh and tips his own whiskey back. He sighs and looks at Graves, squinting at him. “The whole team?”  
  
“You and me. Might be a single day, maybe two. There’s a ferry, takes about two hours to get to Belfast from here.”  
  
“Fuck,” Fontaine groans. “We’re going to miss the portkey home. Eldora’s going to be happy to hear you and I are off on our own for Merlin knows why.”  
  
“If anything happens, I’ll be there to save your ass, as always,” Graves says and tips back the rest of his whiskey. “Ferry leaves at seven-thirty,”  
  
“Portkey doesn’t leave until three. I was promised a day to sleep in.”  
  
“You need to step down, Captain?” Graves asks. “It almost sounds like you’re not up to it anymore.”  
  
Fontaine shakes his head. “I’ll be up to it until the day it kills me,” he says. “Are you going to tell me what we’re walking into?”  
  
Graves sighs and looks down at his empty glass, tilting it back and forth to watch the faint bit of alcohol left roll across the bottom and thinks of waves.  
  
“A conversation is what I expect and a trip to the Auror department in Dublin to follow up on it. Not anything Stranraer had to offer us.”  
  
“Thank Merlin for that,” Fontaine says and raises his glass to the bartender for another.  
  
Graves hopes that they don’t walk into anything Stranraer had to offer anyway, but something tells him they won’t. Something tells him that he’ll get an answer to what has happened in Credence Barebone’s life in the last six months.  
  
He’s just not sure he’ll like that answer.  
  
——  
  
Graves and Fontaine get breakfast and drink numerous cups of coffee in the lounge the next morning. The ferry isn’t far away but Fontaine still mutters now and then about having to take it. It’s necessary because a portkey would have taken longer to arrange than the damn ferry getting them across the Channel.  
  
He mutters about the Irish for a while too and Belfast being in shambles on the ferry and Graves threatens to jinx him eventually because he’s distracting him from his thoughts about how this might go.  
  
When Fontaine asks to know exactly who they’re going to be having a conversation with, Graves thinks it’s a fair question and tells him. He doesn’t let him know about the letter, only says one of their own from Manhattan needs aid, especially the aid of Magical Security, and that he doesn’t expect anything more than information.  
  
Tells him they’ll either find their man or they won’t and they’ll leave if they don’t because Graves doubts that he’ll be able to track Credence down if he’s moved out of Belfast, let alone Ireland entirely.  
  
It’s cloudy and cool all the way to Belfast, no sun to speak of, and it rained all through the night in Stranraer. It looks like it might rain all day in Belfast once they’ve gotten off the ferry and Graves wryly thinks it fits the mood of the letter, of why he’s even here.  
  
It takes a while to get proper directions to Credence’s address, not a jump they can make by Apparition when they have no damn clue where they’re going. The street is quiet, empty but for a few people, and the attached townhouses are old and fairly rundown. They’re red brick and most of them have bay windows on the front and Graves suspects it was a nice neighborhood once upon a time. Before crime surged but that’s been the trend across the world and they know what’s coming to the no-maj world this very year.  
  
It’s been predicted for a while and it’ll be shit for a handful of years but the wizarding world isn’t going to be affected to such a great degree. They have their own economy, an entirely different financial system, but it doesn’t mean they won’t feel the impact in other ways.  
  
Crime will go up and his department will have to see to it that their own will pay the price for taking advantage of poor and destitute no-majs.  
  
They already take advantage of other witches and wizards, Credence Barebone being a good example of that, and Graves isn’t looking forward to it.  
  
Graves and Fontaine walk down the street until they find the right townhouse. All of the windows have thick curtains on them and there are no signs of life in the small fenced area in the front. No potted plants like the ones in the townhouse to the left, only a small plot of wild grass and dirt.  
  
When they get closer to the door, Graves feels a magical barrier, a protective spell, but it’s not a strong one. Enough to stop some spells from breaking through the brick walls, but not enough to stop more powerful magic.  
  
There’s no need for the average wizarding household to have these types of spells protecting them. In a place like New York City it can indicate crime or connections to criminals in some way. All Aurors and known family members have strong protections where they live, though it’s encouraged to never let anyone they don’t trust know where that is.  
  
Seraphina and Graves live in fortresses, really, no matter how easy it might look to break in.  
  
If Credence is still stuck in the middle, which it seems like he is, a weaker protective spell might not even be detectable to those threatening him.  
  
But Graves knows magical signatures well and when he glances at Fontaine, he looks at Graves.  
  
“Nothing like Stranraer, you said?”  
  
“Still saying it,” Graves says and walks to the door, painted a gentle cream.  
  
He’s not nervous, really, but he does feel apprehension for who he’s going to find inside. He doesn’t know how Credence will feel about Aurors in his home when he’s been threatened if law enforcement is involved. And Graves is here as an Auror but he’s also here to try and help a fellow wizard because he knows what it’s like to be lost, starting young in a shit family they both eventually ran away from.  
  
Graves knocks on the door.  
  
It takes a moment or two and when Graves is thinking about trying again, the door unlocks and opens and Graves sees Credence Barebone for the first time.  
  
He’s tall and thin, with dark hair that looks untamable, brown eyes, sharp cheekbones and a sharper jaw. He’s striking, not quite what Graves was expecting, but he knows this is Credence. He’s pale and there’s worry and fear in his eyes, in the way his shoulders go rigid as he glances between them.  
  
“Mister Barebone?” Graves asks.  
  
Credence swallows and frowns. “May I ask who you are?” he asks, but there’s recognition in his eyes for Graves.  
  
He did live in Manhattan for most of his life, even if didn’t join the wizarding world until he was fourteen years old.  
  
“I read your letter,” Graves says simply, because it’s the easiest reason to explain why they’re here.  
  
That doesn’t seem to relieve him. If anything, Credence looks paler and more afraid.  
  
“Who gave it to you?” Credence asks, a little weakly.  
  
Graves smiles wryly. “It might be better discussed in private.”  
  
Credence looks between them and Graves doesn’t particularly blame him when his eyes linger on Fontaine, who likes to scowl at anyone and everyone who inconveniences him and his beauty sleep. But he nods and steps back, gesturing them inside.  
  
The hallway isn’t bright, stairs to the left, but when they pass the living area, it’s more lively. It’s nice, even, and would look better if the curtains on the bay window were drawn. There are plants everywhere and sketch pads on every flat surface. The walls have framed sketches and paintings and Graves recalls Credence painting for wealthy wizarding families to earn enough to escape America.  
  
He didn’t escape the way he wanted to and Graves remembers the pain in his words and doesn’t think that he’s escaped that yet either.  
  
Beyond the living area is a dining table and the kitchen past that and Credence doesn’t seem to quite know where to take them. Graves gestures at the table and Credence nods, but he looks like he’d rather leave the country entirely and Graves doesn’t blame him for that either.  
  
Graves knows the feeling of not belonging but he also knew where he would belong eventually and Credence was never that fortunate.  
  
“This is Mister Fontaine, a Captain in the Auror department in MACUSA,” Graves says once they’ve sat down. “My name is Percival Graves.”  
  
Credence nods jerkily. “I know who you are, Director Graves,” he says and bites his lip when it trembles. “No one gave it to you?”  
  
“I found it myself,” Graves says as he watches Credence. His hands are trembling too and he must see that Graves notices, because he puts them in his lap. “We were in Stranraer and I saw it below the pier.”  
  
Graves pulls out the bottle and it expands to its original size. He places the letter next to it and Credence’s lips part and there are tears in his eyes.  
  
Fontaine doesn’t look quite as moved and Graves will hear it later for not telling him it actually was a message in a bottle but Graves wasn’t about to be cajoled into letting him read it and telling Graves to inform the Ministry so they could go home.  
  
“I didn't think anyone would ever find it,” Credence says quietly and looks at Graves.  
  
 _Especially not you_ doesn’t need to be said.  
  
“I’d like to think I was the right person to find it,” Graves says. He looks at Fontaine. “Make yourself scarce for a few minutes, will you?”  
  
“And where am I supposed to do that, Director Graves?” Fontaine asks, sickly sweet.  
  
“There’s a small garden outside of that door,” Credence says and gestures at the door in the kitchen. “A place to sit.”  
  
Fontaine is going to have things to say to Graves later but he only smirks when he’s glared at. “Still time for that portkey and don’t think I won’t take it,” he says and walks to the door, stepping outside.  
  
Graves needed Fontaine for backup if they walked into something unsuspected, but now he needs privacy with Credence and Credence looks vaguely relieved as well. He stares down at the letter before looking at Graves.  
  
“Did you really find it?”  
  
“I did.”  
  
“People here won’t recognize you, most likely,” Credence says. “But I haven’t involved Aurors for a reason.”  
  
“Are you in the same position you were when you wrote it?”  
  
Credence looks away and nods. “I don’t know how to fix it,” he says softly. “I’ve tried but I feel like… I feel the same as I did then.”  
  
“You’re worried we’ll step in and they’ll hurt the people you care about,” Graves says and smiles faintly when Credence nods. “Auror departments aren’t unfamiliar with that tactic, Credence. Especially in large cities gangsters try to run.”  
  
“I’m sure,” Credence says and shakes his head, his eyes still bright. “But I never wanted to risk it. Something bad could still happen.”  
  
“Something good could happen too,” Graves says. “You could be free of these types of people. Lead a normal and safe life, the way you want to. The people you care about would be safe.”  
  
“I can’t ask them to uproot their lives and go into hiding, Director Graves,” Credence says and looks at him. “I _can’t.”_  
  
“You wouldn’t have to,” Graves says and smiles when Credence furrows his brow. “You tell me who is threatening you, we come down on them for different crimes, put them away with a lesser sentence than they would usually get if they’re not working with Dark Arts or murdering people. They don’t suspect you until you’re gone and the people they’ve threatened are gone too. I don’t mean relocation,” he adds when Credence looks like he may argue. “There are plenty of ways to find out who knows about your friends. Street gangsters don’t often tell many of their own who they’re threatening because it can get messy if there are territorial disputes. I don’t suspect many to know who they are.”  
  
“You would Obliviate them. The memory of threatening my friends,” Credence says. After Graves has nodded, Credence shakes his head. “But there’s no way to know if we missed one. It just takes one.”  
  
“Not after the best of the best looks for the truth and finds it,” Graves says and taps the table. “Fortunately for us, most street gangsters are too lazy and stupid to learn Occlumency.”  
  
Credence huffs a little and smiles for the first time. “I can agree with that,” he says and looks at the letter. He looks like he can’t quite believe he’s seeing it again. “I think I would always worry though. I worry about everything,” he adds in a mutter. “I don’t doubt the abilities of the… best of the best, but the thought that someone out there remembers them and harms them isn’t one that sits well with me.”  
  
Graves nods. “I understand that,” he says. “Have you told them about the threat?”  
  
“They’re a married couple. I told him. Niall,” Credence says. “I didn’t want to at first. I didn’t want them to look over their shoulder every day like I do but I thought it was best if they knew. He told Brigid. I haven’t seen either of them in over a year because of it. They didn’t ask for that, but I feel guilty every time I think about them. The day… the day they came into the pub and told me I owed them something, they already knew their names. I haven’t known what to do since. I feel like when I try to do something right, something good for me or other people, it always goes wrong. I think I stopped trying a while ago. I work at the pub and they use it for smuggling sometimes but I try to stay out of everyone’s way. They ask me to help sometimes in moving things but not often. I mostly just bartend and stay home. I can’t go anywhere else because it worries me too much to be out.”  
  
“That’s a long time to live in fear, Credence,” Graves says. Credence nods. He looks tired, Graves realizes, dark rings around his eyes and his cheeks a little too hollow. His pallor is more grey than white and for more than one reason. “I can help you end this. Get you somewhere safer, where you feel like you belong.”  
  
“I don’t think that place exists, Director Graves,” Credence says and his voice wavers with tears. “I’ve been looking for it for fourteen years. I don’t really know where else to go.”  
  
“Do you ever miss where you were for most of your life?”  
  
Credence raises his eyebrows and sniffs. “The big city,” he says and sighs. “Sometimes. Sometimes I miss the noise and the skyscrapers. A salted soft pretzel. A deli sandwich. Central Park in the winter. But I never belonged there either.”  
  
“You never had a break between your mother and the people you met when you left home,” Graves says. Credence’s eyes fall to the letter before he looks at Graves again and a tear falls down his cheek. Graves itches to wipe it away. “I could get you a place to live. A place to work, even, if you wanted. In MACUSA or outside of it.”  
  
Credence stares at Graves for a while and looks as lost as he said he was. “Do you do these things for everyone you help?”  
  
“I don’t get to help people in this way,” Graves says. “I help people in a broader sense, rather than individually the majority of the time. But I’m not here just because you’re being threatened by criminals and I’m an Auror. I’m here because you’re a wizard and what are we, if we don’t help each other? I’m here because I share Manhattan with you and I’m here because I know what it feels like to not belong. I’m here because I found a message in a bottle that never found its way to anyone else. And I’m here because I found my place in this world and I know you can find yours. You hoped for someone to find a way for you. I have that way, Credence.”  
  
Credence wipes a few more tears off of his cheeks. “I want to believe that,” he says after a moment of quiet and sniffs. “I want to. I want to believe that you’re the one that letter found for a reason.” He looks at Graves. “I don’t know how I’m not supposed to be scared.”  
  
“It’s alright to be scared,” Graves says. “I’m going to have to ask you to trust me. To trust that I’ll get this done for them and for you.”  
  
After pressing his fingers against the letter and staying quiet for some time more, Credence looks at Graves. He nods, just a little. “Okay,” he says. “Okay, Director Graves. I’ll trust you.”  
  
Graves smiles faintly. “It’s going to be okay, Credence,” he says and he reaches out, touching Credence’s hand. “It’s going to be okay. I mean that.”  
  
Credence bites his lip hard enough to turn it white and Graves suspects he’s trying not to cry anymore. He nods. “Alright,” he says breathlessly. “Thank you, Director Graves.”  
  
“Percy,” Graves says and smiles wryly when Credence looks at him in surprise. “Not completely Auror business, I said. I’d prefer it if you called me Percy. It’s hard to have read your letter and still ask you to be formal with me.”  
  
Credence smiles again, wider this time, and looks away. “Percy then,” he says and shifts his hand, until it’s under Graves’. “Thank you. I think… I think I’ve had enough of Ireland.”  
  
Graves chuckles. “Have you had enough of New York too? Or do you want to go back with us?”  
  
“Can I work in MACUSA without having been educated at Ilvermorny?”  
  
“You’ll find I can make just about anything happen.”  
  
Credence grins and it’s amazing what it does for him. Makes him look closer to his age, not quite so world-weary, not quite so afraid, and it lights up his eyes so they aren’t so tired or carrying the pain he feels every damn day. His shoulders are looser too, some weight off of them gone, and Graves finds he is struck by him again.  
  
It’s probably not an appropriate thing to be thinking, how handsome Credence is, but Graves is genuinely glad to see him smile too. He’d like to see him like this from now on, even if he doesn’t take MACUSA’s help. Graves thinks he will, beyond what he’s accepting today, because it’ll start him off on the right foot. It’ll help him to take the steps he wants to so he can experience _normal._  
  
Not such a terrible thing to want to be.  
  
Graves squeezes Credence’s hand and watches Credence look down at their hands, smiling still. He’ll probably look vaguely worried until he’s safe, but that’s alright too.  
  
A peal of thunder rolls overhead, rumbling and loud, and the kitchen door opens. Fontaine walks back in and he’s scowling.  
  
“It’s started raining, so if you two don’t mind, I’d like to be inside,” he says and doesn’t see Credence take his hand away. “And if it really gets going, we’re not crossing the Channel today.”  
  
“The ferry stops the moment they hear thunder,” Credence says and shrugs when Fontaine turns his scowl on him. “They said it’s going to rain all day and night.”  
  
“Perfect,” Fontaine says and sighs as he looks at Graves. “Sorted?”  
  
“Sorted,” Graves says and winks at Credence. “Looks like we’re stuck in Belfast tonight. Any nearby hotels?”  
  
“Owned by a lot of the people I unfortunately know,” Credence mutters. “You’d have to go further out of the city and not to a wizarding village either.”  
  
“Ireland and Scotland are so welcoming these days,” Fontaine says flatly.  
  
Graves raises an eyebrow. “You think New York City is anymore welcoming?”  
  
“At least I know where all the welcoming people are in New York City.”  
  
“Your unceasing complaining for the last two weeks has been just as welcoming,” Graves says and looks at Credence. “Where would you recommend?”  
  
Credence is smiling, just a bit. “I have a guest bedroom and a comfortable sofa.”  
  
Graves looks at Fontaine and smirks when he narrows his eyes. “My seniority says the bedroom.”  
  
Fontaine sighs and looks at the living room. “As long as none of those are carnivorous plants,” he says sourly.  
  
Credence points at the darker corner of the living room, away from the windows. “Right there. They won’t bite unless you give them reason to,” he says and smiles. “Or shoot their venomous needles at you.”  
  
“Those better not be above Class Two.”  
  
“This is Ireland, Mister Fontaine, regulations are different. I’d have a Tentacula if I could. Their leaves sell for a high amount even to legal buyers,” Credence says and smiles more when Graves chuckles. “But they’re Type Four here and it would take a lot of work to grow and gain one’s trust anyway.”  
  
Fontaine shakes his head. “Herbology was your favorite class, wasn’t it?”  
  
“If I’d gone to Ilvermorny, it might have been,” Credence says and shrugs when Fontaine raises his eyebrows. “My life took a stranger path.”  
  
“I’m sure you explained some of that in your letter but Director Graves kept that to himself.”  
  
“People deserve privacy now and then,” Graves says with a shrug.  
  
Credence isn’t looking at Graves, rather at the letter instead, but he’s smiling, like he’s pleased Graves hadn’t let Fontaine read it. That he gave them both the privacy not just Credence needed.  
  
“I’m going to make sure the guest bedroom is ready for a guest,” Credence says, his cheeks faintly pink. “I can make some tea and lunch after.”  
  
“Thank you, Credence,” Graves says. He watches Credence head up the stairs and looks at Fontaine staring expectantly at him. “What? I told you how I knew to come here.”  
  
“And you know I thought you were being a sarcastic shit. A message in a bottle,” Fontaine grouses. “What’s Barebone’s trouble?”  
  
Graves explains it to Fontaine briefly and he’s mildly appeased, understands why Graves wanted to help, even if he calls him soft for it.  
  
He doesn’t mind being soft when it comes to this. Sometimes people need soft, soft words or a soft, helping hand, to change things. Graves might have earned himself a life sentence if he hadn’t had his sister’s softness to stop him from what he wanted to do to their father when he was sixteen years old.  
  
Her helping hand and the soft comfort of her home when he was seventeen saved him from starting to drink just like the old man, because he was angry at the world.  
  
He drinks still, probably a little too much, but it’s out of the enjoyment of the taste and the relaxation it offers after long days protecting all of fucking America. Not to forget, the way he wanted to before.  
  
Credence is nervous, Graves knows, when he comes back downstairs and makes tea and lunch. It’s not every day someone speaks to an Auror, let alone entertains them as houseguests, but Graves lets go of the demeanor he normally carries with the public he isn’t more at ease with - his favorite bartender, for example, and tries not to think about the fact that Credence is also a bartender - and eventually Fontaine does too.  
  
The curtains stay closed but Credence smiles a little more often. He says tonight happens to be his day off and that’s another bit of happenstance Graves has a hard time brushing off as nothing. There are no coincidences, not in his line of work, and not always in the way of magic.  
  
They don’t leave for a variety of safety reasons but Graves doesn’t mind. It’s a good opportunity to talk to Credence, to hear more about how he went from Pike Street to Belfast, Ireland, and it fills Fontaine in a lot of it. He’s less caustic after that all around and makes Credence laugh now and then.  
  
Graves’ heart might race faster when he does, when he smiles more widely and his eyes and nose scrunch up a little, something Graves finds unbearably attractive and endearing. The way his cheeks go pink when he hastily puts away his numerous sketch pads and looks like he wants to take the ones off the walls down too is as equally endearing as the rest of him.  
  
It’s definitely moving into inappropriate territory now and Graves tries to lock it away and pretend it isn’t there, but Credence looks at him in a certain way sometimes too. A quick glance and a smile doesn’t seem like much except for the way it makes Graves stomach flutter each time.  
  
Once he gets over the hurdle of today and feeling like he knows Credence better than he actually does, they’re not going to be alone together very often, Graves foresees. They need to go to the Auror department in Dublin and get a portkey there, hopefully, to get back to London. Graves is going to have to settle things there, for Credence and his friends, and then they can get a portkey home after Credence has settled what he needs to and packs his belongings.  
  
He’s not entirely sure Credence won’t change his mind about New York, but if he doesn’t, he’ll see him at MACUSA and other departments will take over for the time being. Graves can get him a job, no issues there, but after that, there’s no real reason he needs to keep seeing Credence Barebone.  
  
Graves might want to, but he suspects that might be a bad idea. Credence has a long way to go in figuring out what normal means for him and how he wants it to look. He’s going to want to heal from the last twenty-eight damn years and he seems like the type to want to do it on his own.  
  
Of course Graves is as well and Eliza would tell him it’s because he’s too proud and stubborn to ask for help, even when he could use it.  
  
But he doesn’t think about that for now. One step at a time.  
  
He’s never corresponded with the Dublin department and doesn’t know what to expect from it, but his position grants him the respect of being listened to and taken seriously wherever he goes.  
  
When it’s late and they’ve had more damn tea, Graves and Fontaine both mourning the lack of alcohol in Credence’s townhouse, they turn in for the night and another early morning.  
  
Preferably a sunny morning, for Merlin’s sake, because not even the beauty of Ireland and Scotland and England combined can make up from the seemingly never ending rain they’ve experienced in the last two weeks.  
  
Graves lies in the small bed in the equally small guest bedroom and stares up at the dark ceiling. A splash of light is reflected from a street lamp outside over the curtain and he can see raindrops as they slide down the window pane.  
  
He wonders if Credence is looking at a similar sight in the bedroom across the hall from him.  
  
Or maybe he fell asleep with hope and the ocean’s waves on his mind.  
  
——  
  
The next morning is busy. Belfast is roughly one hundred miles from Dublin and Fontaine has been there, on vacation with his wife, and he’s confident he can make the jump. Credence doesn’t share the same confidence because he’s been too frightened to leave Belfast and hasn’t tried.  
  
Fontaine takes them one at a time and they all arrive in one piece, nothing left behind.  
  
Dublin is… well, it’s Dublin, Graves supposes, not feeling particularly kind toward any bit of land across the Atlantic these days. Especially when it’s still fucking raining.  
  
Graves speaks with the head Auror of the Dublin office while Fontaine stays with Credence in the lobby. He explains everything, tells her what he wants to see done, and she listens. There’s been the thought of someone wanting to investigate what sort of work Credence has done for these people but she says she’ll let the Ministry handle it, if they want to, because she’s heard this story one too many times since the beginning of the decade.  
  
They bring Credence in after that and he’s nervous, fidgeting with his sleeves and keeping his eyes on her desk or his hands, but he’s honest. He’s scared but he’s truthful and the information he gives is going to be valuable in a lot of different ways for Irish Aurors to take down the gangsters who do this.  
  
She says she’ll let the Ministry handle Obliviations too, wryly saying they aren’t quite so practiced in their small department as the Aurors of MACUSA and the Ministry are.  
  
Beyond that, she promises to get Credence’s friends protected within the hour, until the Ministry steps in with a plan for them, and Credence begins to steadily relax.  
  
As if he’s finally believing this is real and he may get out of it with his freedom, his life and his friends’ lives unharmed.  
  
Auror McCarthy sends them on their way when they’ve finished, sometime past one in the afternoon, and apologizes to Credence for his experience in Ireland and wishes him well.  
  
They get a portkey arranged in the small Magical Transportation office to London and the Ministry of Magic.  
  
It operates much like MACUSA, though it is larger and a bit of a maze, but Graves has been here numerous times. Theseus Scamander is Head Auror these days and they’re familiar with each other.  
  
Once the story has been told, including a written statement from Dublin, Scamander peers at Credence for a while. Sussing him out and Graves lets him do it, but only for a little while, before he pointedly asks what procedures are in place that would fit helping Credence’s friends.  
  
It’s complicated but it’ll work and Credence approves of it. The people he’s fallen in with won’t remember their threat toward his friends. They’ll remember Credence but he’ll be gone long before they think to come looking. Scamander offers more aid from the Ministry and Graves thinks Credence might take it, might take a home here in London so he doesn’t have to remember New York, but Credence simply says _no, thank you_ and that’s that.  
  
The British department will work with the Irish department, they already do enough of that, and Scamander tells them to consider it done. That Credence can consider himself a free man once he’s taken a portkey home to pack his belongings and a portkey to America after that.  
  
He has no interest in interrogating a man forced to do things under threat of losing his life and those he cared about. Graves would have had words with him if he had.  
  
It’s late by the time they get back to Belfast and Fontaine is back to complaining and cursing the Irish in random outbursts that make Credence grin and Graves long for whiskey.  
  
Credence is some kind of heathen, a bartender who doesn’t drink, but Graves forgives him for it.  
  
He asks to see his friends and Graves tells him he can shortly before their portkey is due to leave tomorrow afternoon. To let some work be done on arresting those responsible for the anguish in his letter and to give Credence more safety.  
  
After a late dinner and some light conversation, Fontaine says they might as well sleep if they can’t drink and Graves is inclined to agree, but Credence looks like sleep is the last thing on his mind and Graves can’t exactly blame him for that.  
  
His entire life is about to change and for the better, but he might not believe that for a while.  
  
“You want to sit outside for a while?”  
  
“It stopped raining,” Credence says with a glance at the back door. “Sure. For a little while.”  
  
The garden is small but Credence has made it his own, filled with various plants and flowers, all healthy and bright, spells preventing them from being drowned, Graves is sure. There’s a wrought iron bench with cushions on it that they sit on after drying them.  
  
Thick, grey clouds are still overhead, hiding what must be a spectacular night sky and Graves realizes he hasn’t seen stars in over two weeks. He doesn’t pay much attention to them, the moon catches his eye for more than one reason, but he finds himself eager to get back to New York. Less colorful, full of drab greys and more smog, but that feeling no other place but New York City and home can give.  
  
“Is Mister Fontaine always in such a good mood?” Credence asks as he looks around at his various plants, like he’s committing them to memory.  
  
Graves chuckles. “Should’ve seen him a handful of nights ago,” he says. “About thirty Aurors, us included, found about thirty Dark Arts practitioners.”  
  
Credence looks at him, gaping. “You were involved in that?” he asks. “I read about it in the paper. Is that why you were in Scotland?”  
  
“The Ministry requested our aid. I brought about ten of mine,” Graves says. “One’s stuck in St Mungo’s but he should be home in a couple of days. Wand fights always put Fontaine in a certain mood. Takes him a couple weeks before he finds something else to be angry about.”  
  
Credence smiles and shakes his head. “You talk to each other like you’ve been friends for a long time. How long have you worked together?”  
  
“Twenty years as of last year. But you’re right, we’ve been friends longer. Met at eleven in Ilvermorny, same House,” Graves says. “Both aspiring Aurors.”  
  
“At eleven?” Credence asks with amusement. “Do most Aurors want to be one so young?”  
  
“Some,” Graves says with a smirk. “Some don’t think about it until their professors hand out pamphlets describing various careers and they decide it sounds interesting.”  
  
“Do those ones make good Aurors? The ones that decide on a whim?”  
  
“They can. Most are out by the second week of the training program because it’s harder than they bargained for,” Graves chuckles. “Some leave a few months into the job because they realize it’s interesting in a way they weren’t expecting. And not as glamorous.”  
  
“More death and evil people than they realized?”  
  
“Even after my long speech about how we are the front line defense for both our world and the no-maj one against Dark Arts practitioners and we have to uphold that position. Junior Aurors face a lot of paperwork and training and get impatient. Or they’re taken into the field a few times by their Captains and realize they aren’t cut out for what we see.”  
  
Credence shakes his head. “Most of the people I know were street gangsters,” he says. “Here and in Manhattan. I didn’t see the worst of them because I hated it to begin with, but I know they aren’t on the same level as people who work with the Dark Arts. And you wanted to do it at eleven?”  
  
“I wanted to do it when I was four. I come from a long line of Aurors,” Graves adds when Credence raises his eyebrows. “And when you come from a long line of Aurors - descended from the first Aurors in America, in fact - that’s all you fucking hear about growing up. Conditioned by my family but that’s alright. I happen to be damn good at what I do.”  
  
Credence laughs. “You are the Director,” he says and grins. “I wonder if someone else would have even come to my door if they’d found my letter.”  
  
Graves smiles and shrugs. “I’d like to hope that any wizard would,” he says. “I’m not sure I have that kind of hope in other wizards though.”  
  
“I know I lost mine a long time ago,” Credence says. “But I did hope the _right_ person would find it and would find a way. You are the right person, Percy. I stopped believing in God a long time ago but I believe in magic and the things it can do when we least expect it. You were working at MACUSA a mile and a half from me when I ran away.”  
  
“Interesting, isn’t it? Magic is capable of incredible feats,” Graves says. “Incredible, confusing and lacking in any sense feats, but sometimes that’s not such a bad thing.”  
  
Credence smiles as he looks at Graves. “It’s definitely not,” he says. “Not at all.” He bites his lip and looks up at the sky. “You said MACUSA could help me find a place to live? I have a good bit of Galleons stored away that I’ll have to get converted into American currency but I don’t know how long it’ll last me.”  
  
“MACUSA can get you an apartment and stipend and once you’re on your feet with a job, especially if you take one in MACUSA, and have consistent deposits, they’ll step back. You won’t have to worry about counting Dragots.”  
  
“I didn’t know they offered those kinds of things. I still don’t know what I could do there. It feels strange to ask you to do more than you’re already doing for me,” Credence says and looks down at his hands, tugging gently at his sleeve.  
  
Graves smiles. “I did say I can make anything happen.”  
  
Credence huffs and glances at Graves, something a little mischievous in his eyes, so different than yesterday morning. “Can you turn back time?”  
  
“We have entire drawers full of Time Turners in MACUSA,” Graves says and chuckles when Credence nudges his elbow against his own. “I’m afraid I can’t do that. Not in a legal and consequence-free way anyway. You’ll continue moving forward, Credence, but it’s to better things now.”  
  
“I know,” Credence says. “I wish none of it had ever happened sometimes. Or that I got to go to Ilvermorny. My life would be a lot different.”  
  
Graves sighs, gently. “I imagine it would be,” he says. “How did she stop you from going?”  
  
Credence shakes his head and he looks as if he resigned himself to the fact that this happened to him a long time ago. But there’s always some bitterness to these sorts of things, Graves knows that well.  
  
“They came to give me my letter and confirmed for her I was as unnatural as she always accused me of being. She was nice to them, but not so much to me. When they came back when I wasn’t there to start the first term, she told them I’d died. I didn’t think they’d believe her,” Credence says. “But she had a fraudulent death certificate made. My mother, the holiest of women who could never do wrong, went to a street criminal to have a fake death certificate made. She thought she could beat it out of me.”  
  
Graves rests his arm on the back of the bench and looks up at the sky. He shakes his head. “I’m sorry for that, Credence. The lengths no-majs will go to sometimes,” he says with a sigh. “We’ve seen no-maj parents resistant to the idea of their child being a witch or wizard but they usually can come around.”  
  
“What about the ones that can’t and don’t have fake death certificates made?” Credence asks dryly.  
  
Graves chuckles grimly. “Children with magic in their veins have rights in the wizarding world. If their rights are infringed upon, even by their parents, they’re subject to removal from the household. Sometimes it takes a small mention of that to get them to come around. Sometimes taking them to Ilvermorny and giving them a tour, showing them what their child will experience on an average day, makes them come around. If there’s proof of abuse in any way, they’re removed from the home regardless.”  
  
Credence is quiet for a while. “That would have been my life,” he says. “If I’d been able to tell them I wasn’t dead. Where would I have gone if MACUSA had taken me away from her?”  
  
“Somewhere better,” Graves sighs. “I wish that had happened for you.”  
  
“I suppose it is now, if a little later than it might have otherwise,” Credence says with a wry smile as he looks at Graves. “But you’re going to have to get me a job I can actually do.”  
  
“There’s a botany department.”  
  
“I can’t tell if you’re being serious or not.”  
  
Graves laughs. “I am. Department of Magical Botany and Phytology. They monitor and regulate movement and sales of all classes of magical plants. They approve who is eligible for Class Three or higher, such as schools or certain specialty breweries and apothecaries. They ensure MACUSA offshoots that brew rare potions are supplied with high quality ingredients. Phytologists publish papers on new findings and help write and update Herbology textbooks for schools around the country. There’s field work too, experimental growth in the wild, or sometimes magical plants take over a no-maj’s backyard and wreak havoc and the department has to step in and clean up the mess. Last I heard, Mister Price, head of the department, had to go to California and stop a rapidly growing Devil’s Snare in the Black Chasm Caverns. Nearly killed a couple of tourists first.”  
  
Credence gapes at him for a while. “Merlin,” he says. “I had no idea that sort of department was in MACUSA.” He laughs. “How did a Devil’s Snare get to California? It’s native to Scotland, you know.”  
  
“The question of the ages for them,” Graves says with a chuckle. “A witch or wizard who thought it might like the environment without caring about how large it grew. Or they wanted it to grow large. No way to track them down unfortunately.”  
  
“I have to admit,” Credence says with a smile, “that sounds like a very interesting job.”  
  
Graves laughs. “I thought it just might,” he says. “Mister Price won’t mind your lack of Herbology and Potions HAREs when you tell him about your experience with everything you’ve got inside and your knowledge of magical plants otherwise. He may want you to sharpen up your Defense skills.”  
  
“How do you know they’re not?”  
  
“I imagine you know the basics,” Graves says. “But not specifics to what you might face in the field. Very different Defensive skills from the ones I use when I’m in the field.”  
  
Credence hums and squints a little. “I could probably use the lessons then,” he says and smiles when Graves smirks. “Are there courses at MACUSA for that sort of thing?”  
  
“There are programs that pair people with tutors for higher learning after school. I’m sure someone could be found to help you with basic Defense too.”  
  
“That sounds pretty good, you know,” Credence says. “I think I might see Manhattan in a different way if I had that kind of work. My own apartment… hopefully not anywhere near Pike Street.”  
  
“We’ll make sure of that,” Graves chuckles and squeezes Credence’s shoulder. “You’ll do well. I know,” he adds, when Credence wrinkles his nose, “you’ll be worried for a while. But I meant it when I told you it’s going to be okay. No matter what you choose when we get home, it’s going to be okay.”  
  
“I think it just might be,” Credence says with a gentle sigh. “Thank you for everything you’re doing for me, Percy.”  
  
“Happy to,” Graves says. “Your letter did manage to give me hope. The hope of finding you or the hope of finding that you’d gotten to safety.”  
  
“I guess I was too scared to make it happen,” Credence says and looks around his garden. “On my own anyway.”  
  
Graves nods as he watches Credence. “Not something to be ashamed of. I’m familiar with that fear, the fear of retaliation, as much as I wish I wasn’t. That none of us were,” he says. “But we move past it.”  
  
“We do, I suppose. I’m on my way,” Credence says. “I’m sorry you’ve lived it too, Percy.”  
  
“A very long time ago,” Graves says with a smile. “And I’ve got all I need in my life now to be content with it.”  
  
Credence smiles and leans back against the bench more, his back warm against Graves’ arm. “Good friends?”  
  
“A handful of them, yes. Never really needed more than that.”  
  
“Any good family?”  
  
“One. My sister. The last of the Graves family.”  
  
Credence raises his eyebrows. “Neither of you have children?”  
  
“I think my sister would rather go through my training program every year than face down children,” Graves says with a smirk. “I would too, but I’d get enjoyment out of it, at least.”  
  
Credence laughs. “Do you both feel the same way about marriage? Or did you find people as allergic to children as you two?”  
  
“My sister is as fond of and as focused on her career as I am on mine. She was never the type to plan her wedding when she was eight years old,” Graves says with a wry smile. “I’m married to my work. Not sure I have the room for anything else.”  
  
“But you never ruled it out?”  
  
“Never say never,” Graves sighs. “What about you, Mister Barebone? I understand romance was likely impossible for you traveling across Europe and especially so here.”  
  
“The furthest thing from my mind, honestly. Here, at least, you’re right about that,” Credence says. “But I think most people daydream about _what ifs_ if they’re open to them. Maybe in New York it can be different. Before I blink and I’m seventy.”  
  
Graves chuckles. “I was seventeen only days ago, so be careful,” he says and smiles. “You have a certain candor to you, Credence. People like you make friends and more easily, in my experience, when they’re given a chance to be an everyday person.”  
  
“I don’t know if that’ll be true for me,” Credence mutters, his cheeks darker. “But maybe. I think it’s going to take a while to settle into a new life.” He looks down at his hands. “It’d be nice to have a friend or two while I do.”  
  
Graves watches Credence, his skin so pale under the clouds, little light out here. He’s beautiful and not as broken as Graves was expecting to find him. He’s frightened but anyone would be. He’s willing to go through what he has today and he’s willing to uproot his life and go back to a place that he doesn’t have many good memories of for the chance of something better.  
  
He’s resilient, even while fear kept him in the same spot, and that means a fighting spirit. He’s gotten this far and he plans to keep going, even if a few moments of anguish in his letter might have indicated otherwise.  
  
Merlin, Graves likes him. He likes everything about him, everything he’s learned and he’s sure he’ll only continue liking him. From his smile to his laugh to his bravery and the mischievous look in his eyes.  
  
He has an affinity for life, especially for green life, and Graves thinks that takes a special sort of person to be in his position and to still be able to care for other living things.  
  
“You have friends, Credence,” Graves says and squeezes his shoulder. “And you’ll make more.”  
  
Credence looks at him and Graves tries to tell himself that Credence doesn’t look like he’s been thinking something along the same lines.  
  
“The horizon looks different in New York,” Credence says with a faint smile.  
  
“It does. Maybe it’ll give you new kinds of hope,” Graves says. He smiles when Credence ducks his head and touches the nape of his neck. “Come on, I think we both could use some sleep.”  
  
Credence nods and leads Graves inside. They go upstairs and open their respective doors, turning on the lights. When Credence looks at Graves, he’s smiling and has more color to his skin tonight than he has since Graves met him.  
  
“I’m going to take a shower to wash off the day,” he says. “But I’m looking forward to tomorrow.”  
  
“Good,” Graves says and winks. “It’s going to be another busy one. But hopefully by tomorrow night you’ll be in a place of your own where you might feel safe.”  
  
“That’s going to be a new feeling for me,” Credence says but he’s still smiling. “Thank you, Percy. Good night.”  
  
“Good night, Credence,” Graves says and closes the bedroom door. He gets out of his coat and shoes and into softer clothes before lying down.  
  
He looks at the ceiling and sees no raindrops tonight. The rain has finally stopped and maybe when he wakes up, there might be a sunny blue sky. It’d fit his last day overseas, he thinks, and hopes a warmer day meets them in New York as well.  
  
——  
  
It’s raining in the morning.  
  
Graves is determined to ignore it, even if it smarts a little, and mutters angrily with Fontaine as they help Credence arrange his belongings in the morning. He’s leaving the bigger things behind except one sofa, only packing the essentials, which is still a decent amount of things.  
  
A lot of plants. A lot of plants that need to be reassured and cajoled into being shrunk and put carefully away and Graves smiles as he watches Credence talk to the Stinging Nettle and chuckles when Fontaine shakes his head.  
  
“The last time I saw this many plants was seventh year Herbology,” he grouses as he picks up what looks like a small tree that rattles threateningly and scowls at it. “None of these are Mandrakes, are they?”  
  
“Of course not, those are Type Five,” Credence says as he shrinks the Nettle and puts it carefully into a container with dividers for them all. “They’re too deadly.”  
  
“And the others in here aren’t?”  
  
“Just a couple but they have to be heavily provoked into it.”  
  
“Heavily provoked is a wide range in our line of work,” Fontaine says dryly as he shrinks the rattling pant, which shrieks its disapproval and he hastily puts it in one of the dividers.  
  
Credence smiles and shrugs. “Just don’t try to pick their leaves without asking first.”  
  
Fontaine looks at Graves and he laughs. “You heard the man,” he says. “Don’t pick their leaves. Are we getting anything out of the garden?”  
  
“No, those are non-magical plants and not worth digging up,” Credence says. “I don’t have much left. My clothes and some other things in my bedroom. We can have lunch after that.”  
  
“And you’ll see your friends after,” Graves says. “Portkey leaves at half past three, so take the time you need.”  
  
Credence nods and smiles. “I will,” he says. “Thank you, Percy.”  
  
He packs his plants away and heads upstairs after and Graves looks around the nearly empty living room before he looks at Fontaine, who he can feel staring at him.  
  
“What more can you possibly have to complain about when we’ll be home in four hours?”  
  
 _“Percy,”_ Fontaine says. “I hear the way he says it.”  
  
Graves shakes his head. “You’ve never had the best hearing.”  
  
“That’s a dirty lie and you know it,” Fontaine says. “Eldora’s going to find it hilarious when I tell her you’ve got cow eyes for the man who wrote a message in a bottle.”  
  
“Cow eyes?” Graves asks flatly. “It’s called empathy, Fontaine, and it’s not hard to have after reading that letter.”  
  
“Which you never plan on letting me read.”  
  
“I’d hate to see you cry.”  
  
Fontaine rolls his eyes. “Keep it between yourselves then,” he says. “Never took you for the springtime romance type.”  
  
“You think anything about these countries inspires romance?” Graves asks. “Is it the rain? This endless fucking rain that I have to keep standing in, unable to use a spell to keep dry and listening to you complain about it for two entire weeks?”  
  
“You’ve been complaining right alongside me,” Fontaine says with dignity. “Still telling Eldora.”  
  
“You do that,” Graves says and grabs the last framed drawing off of the wall. It’s the Cathedral of St John, one of the few churches he admires in Manhattan for the architecture alone. Credence must remember it well because it’s a detailed sketch of a place he probably hasn’t seen in over ten years. “And I’ll take pride in doing a good deed for a fellow wizard now and then that I’m not getting paid for.”  
  
“Started that way,” Fontaine says. “Don’t see it ending that way.”  
  
Graves shakes his head and shrinks the frame, adding it to the suitcase all the others have gone in and closes it. He decides to ignore Fontaine, as he’s been doing for the majority of their time away from home, and Credence comes down not long after anyway.  
  
There are four suitcases, not so terrible for an entire townhouse, a little more stable than an Extension Charm.  
  
Credence looks around the townhouse for a moment before he looks at Graves and smiles. “I tried to make it mine but I’m not going to miss a single thing about it. Well, maybe the garden.”  
  
Graves chuckles. “Might be hard to have one of those in the city,” he says. “MACUSA only offers apartments to single occupants, I’m afraid.”  
  
“That’s alright,” Credence says with a grin. “I’ve got the most important things with me for now.”  
  
They eat lunch, sandwiches, with more tea because Credence has apparently grown fond of it, and Graves and Fontaine suffer through it without complaints because Credence has trusted them enough to have them in his home.  
  
He’s nervous to see his friends after over a year, though they have written to each other occasionally. They don’t live too far from him and when they all arrive, Graves and Fontaine are invited inside when they’d planned to give them privacy, because it’s still raining.  
  
It’s a larger house so they can still give them privacy and Graves and Fontaine decline tea in favor of water and Graves does agree with Fontaine that having a drink as soon as they’re in their own homes will be one of the more satisfying ones.  
  
They talk about various cases and the potential for the department to be in shambles when they get back while Credence, Niall, and Brigid talk in the kitchen. They’re good people, Graves knows, and though they’ve gone through an ordeal of their own they were relieved to see Credence, relieved to hear it’s over and that he’s going on to better things.  
  
Graves knows he’ll make friends in Manhattan, in MACUSA, if he decides to work there. Graves also knows that Credence had been referring to his own friendship last night and he still thinks that’s a bad idea.  
  
Credence only keeps giving him reasons to like him even more. The things he’s interested in, the small things that he does while he talks, his genuine and kind nature, even after all the shit life has put him through.  
  
When Graves has thought of someone he might meet and enjoy the company of, they’ve never been like Credence. They’ve been similar to the people he was in relationships with in the past and maybe that’s why he’s so taken with him. He’s unexpected, different from the people Graves once shared _more_ with. That might be one of the reasons Graves has resisted the idea of dating anyone in the last dozen or so years, because he wasn’t interested in the same story. The same way things had played out before.  
  
Graves and Credence share some things in common, on a personal level. Otherwise they’re vastly different people and Graves never thought to go looking for that. They’re different but Graves wants to know more about what Credence likes, about the things he’s interested in and what makes him tick.  
  
He hasn’t felt this way in so long that it bothers him because work has been his life for so many years and he worries it would be hard to maintain work and a relationship.  
  
He also thinks he wouldn’t be able to refrain from cursing Fontaine if he ever said _I told you so._  
  
Graves is interested and he’s fairly confident Credence is too but they have more work to do. When they get home, MACUSA will be starting to fill with busy witches and wizards beginning their days and they’ll be there for hours getting things settled.  
  
He’s tired already and is tempted to order Fontaine to get the department in order so he has to suffer it too, but Eldora is waiting for him and he’s a little more fond of her. Fond of not getting on her bad side too.  
  
When it gets closer to three-thirty, Credence says goodbye to his friends. They shake Fontaine and Graves’ hands and thank them, though Graves doesn’t need any thanks. He’s glad Credence still has friends, even if he’ll never see them in Ireland again.  
  
The portkey is waiting for them outside of the city near Tollymore Forest. Credence takes them there with his belongings and Graves follows the directions the Ministry had given them.  
  
It’s a tomato sauce can that’s waiting for them when they get there. Portkeys aren’t Graves’ favorite way to travel, but it means home and at three-thirty, they leave Ireland and arrive in New York.  
  
Credence cries, just a little, when they get into the city and Graves smiles, because they’re clearly happy tears.  
  
The sea gave him his answer and Graves hopes Credence has a better reason to smile now.  
  
The bright blue sky, not a cloud in sight, and the pleasantly warm day seems like a good start.  
  
——  
  
It’s a long day.  
  
A really long fucking day.  
  
Once Credence’s belongings have been stored in Graves’ office, it’s a lot of meeting with different departments and explaining the situation. Protective Services is a little livid once they get word of what happened to Credence, what his mother did to prevent him from going to school, and Graves has a feeling new protocols and procedures are going to be put in place.  
  
 _Good,_ he thinks angrily, but too many years too late for Credence.  
  
Fontaine has gone home to Eldora and Graves envies him when they talk to Protective Services for a few hours. It’s more in their hands than it is in Graves’, but he stays to listen because he wants to know what ideas they have for any potential retaliation, which _would_ be in his hands.  
  
The chance of it is incredibly slim. The people who threatened him will be in Azkaban for a while and when they get out, they won’t be able to use portkeys legally. Their faces will be known in New York City.  
  
And Credence didn’t do more than help move smuggled goods. He’s not important in the grand scheme of things, not even important enough to track down to nurse their wounded pride, and Graves isn’t particularly worried but he still wants some kind of protection done because he’s paranoid.  
  
Credence looks like he’s prepared to call it all off when they’re leaving the office, so Graves takes him to the cafeteria and once he’s had a good meal, color returns to his skin and he has more energy. They’re both tired, ready for comfortable beds, but they’ve got more things to get in order.  
  
The Witch and Wizard Special Placement department is inside the Protective Services department and they handle properties MACUSA owns and uses to help witches and wizards in dire situations or who have lost their income unexpectedly or to aid the occasional person who needs to be in hiding for a time.  
  
The apartments are often in no-maj neighborhoods with only no-maj residents for a variety of reasons and the handful of options they offer Credence aren’t bad. Graves isn’t surprised when he chooses the one with the most windows on the blueprints. It’s just past Greenwich Village and though Graves would have liked for him to be further away from Pike Street, Credence seems alright with it. It’s close to MACUSA anyway and Credence only mentions he doubts his mother will be anywhere near Woolworth, if she’s still on Pike Street.  
  
She is, Graves knows, still preaching about burning witches at the stake. Fontaine had told him and he vaguely remembers the file that is in Barrows’ hands, but there’s never been anything to be concerned about.  
  
Except her damn son, but it’s too fucking late to do anything about that. Graves thinks he’ll still be angry about it on his deathbed.  
  
Credence can’t get financial assistance without a vault and he needs to get Galleons converted anyway, so when Graves is sure the apartment is assigned to Credence and they’ve done what they needed to in MACUSA, he takes Credence to Dragon Street.  
  
“I never thought I’d come here again,” Credence sighs as they walk down the street.  
  
“I hope that every time I step onto this street,” Graves mutters. “I’m sure it’s barely changed since you were last here.”  
  
Credence smiles. “It hasn’t,” he says. “It’s bizarre to see friendly faces though. Smiles. If you smile at anyone on the street in Europe, they tend to think you’re the odd one.”  
  
Graves chuckles. “Busy people living their busy, private lives,” he says as they walk under a large brick archway that leads to Gringotts. “One of the perks of being me is that no one smiles at me either.”  
  
Credence laughs. “They’re probably wondering if they’ve broken any laws when you’re striding through here,” he says. “Which you are, by the way.”  
  
“Are you saying I look threatening?”  
  
“A little.”  
  
“Good, then I’m doing something right,” Graves says and smiles when Credence huffs at him. “I do not come to Dragon Street to make friends. I come here to harass half the shop owners into showing me their books or questioning them about suspicious persons. Goblins are especially fond of me.”  
  
“Should you wait outside while I get a vault?”  
  
“Might be easier that way,” Graves says and smirks when Credence wrinkles his nose. “But I don’t think you want to go in alone.”  
  
“I don’t,” Credence admits. “I’m trying to savor not being alone before I am for a little while. I think I need a few days to settle in before I think about working.”  
  
Graves is glad Credence has said it because he planned on making him do it anyway. “That’s a good idea. If you want me to talk to Mister Price during those few days, let me know. Or come see me, I’ll let the information desk in the lobby know to send you up. I’d say write to me but personal mail doesn’t make it to my desk and mail to my department is thoroughly inspected before getting there.”  
  
Credence grimaces. “I suppose I can see why that is,” he says. “If you have an owl, you can send them to me too and I can write back.”  
  
“I don’t have an owl,” Graves says. “I should get one, it’d make life easier. I use our department’s owls when I need to. One of them has revolted and has turned half of them against me, so I’ve been trying to play nice with them.”  
  
“Merlin,” Credence laughs as he looks at Graves. “What’d you do to the poor owls?”  
  
“I did absolutely nothing to them,” Graves says. “I told Brooks he was bad at his job once and it’s all been downhill from there. If I get my own personal owl he’ll turn them against me too.”  
  
Credence snickers. “I need to meet Brooks,” he says and smiles when Graves squints at him. “Hear his side of the story.”  
  
Graves shakes his head. “Full of lies, that owl,” he says. “I use the Floo Network if I have to or come into work if I’m desperate enough to get a letter out, which I rarely am. Patronuses work nicely too.”  
  
“Patronuses?” Credence asks with a frown. “What do you mean? To send messages?”  
  
“They need to be familiar with who you’re sending it to so they can find them, but yes.”  
  
“I… had no idea Patronuses could do that,” Credence says. “That’s amazing.”  
  
“It’s not been known for that long, actually. Twenty-five years or so,” Graves says. “A brilliant wizard in Europe figured it out. Immensely helpful for Auror departments. Other people as well, but pros and cons and all that.”  
  
Credence smiles and shakes his head as they walk to the bank’s large, white doors framed in gold. “I can’t cast a corporeal one,” he says. “And no one I knew used them for that purpose either, so maybe they couldn’t either.”  
  
“It’s not actually taught in wizarding schools. It’s considered higher learning because of the difficulty of it,” Graves says as they walk inside. “Necessary in my line of work.”  
  
“Rogue Dementors?”  
  
“And other unpleasant things.”  
  
“Do I need it for the botany department?”  
  
“You just might. I can see it working on a Devil’s Snare.”  
  
“Hopefully no one releases another one anytime soon.”  
  
“When you start hoping criminals don’t do something, they tend to do it anyway, in my experience,” Graves says. “This is why I have little hope in anything. Until I read a certain letter anyway.”  
  
Credence smiles, his cheeks faintly pink as he looks at Graves. “I opened my door and found hope too,” he says. He looks away like he’s embarrassed, but it might also be because they’ve reached the desk and a goblin is peering down at them expectantly.  
  
Credence is able to open a decently sized vault, once they’re converted his Galleons to Dragots and Sprinks, and Graves waits as he’s taken to his vault to deposit them and get his key. He thinks Credence would have preferred for him to come, but Graves thinks Credence should experience this bit on his own. It’s his own hard work allowing it anyway.  
  
And he does look happier when he gets back, his hair an absolute mess from the caverns below and the speed of the lift, and Graves hopes he doesn’t try to fix it.  
  
He’s talked into visiting the magical pets shop and Graves is prepared to tell Credence he is not getting an owl today, but it seems Credence wants one of his own. They do make life infinitely easier and eventually Credence will have friends to write to. A job he may need to send a letter to now and then.  
  
Graves eyes the Kneazles and bullfrogs and owls while trying not to pay attention to the smell. Credence seems drawn to a female barred owl, nearly fully grown, a few tufts of down still in between her russet and white chest feathers.  
  
“She’s pretty,” Credence says. “Isn’t she?”  
  
“She is,” Graves says. “She’ll need to be able to have free reign of your apartment. She’s not small.”  
  
“I wouldn’t leave her caged anyway,” Credence says with a smile and holds out his arm. She hops onto it and hoots gently as she peers up at Credence. They look at each other for a while before Credence looks at Graves. “She’s the one.”  
  
“You better go get a couple perches and food and treats then,” Graves says with a chuckle. “Hopefully you have room with all your plants.”  
  
“I need to get them into the sun soon,” Credence says with a laugh. “After we’re done here, can we go to the apartment?”  
  
“Sure,” Graves says and smiles. “I’ll take her, go get what you need.”  
  
Credence grins and lets the owl hop onto Graves’ shoulder before he’s off to get what else he needs. The rush of a new year at Ilvermorny won’t start up for a few months so it’s not busy here, thank Merlin.  
  
Coming to Dragon Street in the last week of August is a nightmare Graves has to face every year and he’s not looking forward to it. The summer weather and stress of buying necessities for students at the last damn minute tends to make witches and wizards lose what little sense they seem to have anyway.  
  
If they’re not issuing fines, they’re throwing the occasional parents into a cell overnight for starting a fistfight in the bookstore. Graves never has to come here himself for those petty things but he has to hear about it and approve their release if one of his Captains hasn’t already. He gets to come here for worse crimes, still often committed by parents.  
  
Wonders will never cease.  
  
Graves pays for the owl while Credence is off getting what he needs for her and she nips his ear in an affectionate sort of way.  
  
“Housewarming gift,” he tells her. “He’s been trapped in Europe for a long while, so keep him company for a few days.”  
  
She hoots, as if to say _deal,_ and Graves fends off a Kneazle winding itself around his leg and leaves streaks of orange hair all over his black slacks that he vanishes.  
  
Credence appears with an armful of things for his new owl and pays for them. When the witch tells him she herself has been bought already, Credence’s cheeks turn pink.  
  
“Percy,” he mutters, but he’s smiling. “You didn’t have to.”  
  
“Your welcome home,” Graves says and smiles when Credence looks away, his ears charmingly red too. “She’s very polite. I think you picked a good one.”  
  
“I always pick the good ones. Plants and animals anyway. Occasionally people,” Credence says with a laugh. “Thank you, Percy.”  
  
Graves smiles. “You’re welcome. Do you need anything else while we’re here?”  
  
“No. I’m eager to sit down,” Credence sighs. “My feet hurt.”  
  
“You’ll feel better in the morning,” Graves chuckles. “I know I will, after a very large whiskey tonight.”  
  
Credence shakes his head as they get the owl into her cage, easier for traveling, and leave the shop. “You’ve gone without whiskey for over two days now.”  
  
“Don’t remind me,” Graves says. “How did you become a bartender without a taste for alcohol?”  
  
“I like making drinks. It’s fun. It’s more fun talking to people that come in,” Credence says as they walk down the street. “I have a glass of champagne on New Year’s Eve, you know.”  
  
Graves laughs. “I suppose that’s a better habit than nightly whiskey,” he says. “A little less costly too.”  
  
Credence smiles and shrugs. “I put too much into plants,” he says. “Still a better habit than nightly whiskey.”  
  
“They do bring a certain amount of life most homes are missing,” Graves says with a smile, because he likes that Credence likes his plants so much. “Let’s get them some sunlight.”  
  
Once they’ve left Dragon Street, they go to Credence’s apartment to take a look and drop off his owl and her belongings. It’s a nice place, light hardwood floors and large windows in the living room and bedroom. It’s not big but Credence looks genuinely happy as he gazes around and Graves supposes it’s just big enough for him.  
  
He mentions that he’s afraid he’ll wake up back in Ireland and Graves understands that fear but tells him he’ll fall asleep to the noise of the city and wake up to it to start his new life.  
  
Credence smiles and he’s teary, but none of them fall.  
  
They go back to MACUSA to get his suitcases from Graves’ office and after Barrows has told him nothing catastrophic has happened and to go home and get some sleep, Graves gladly leaves them to it.  
  
He helps Credence unpack with a few waves of his and Credence’s wands. He says he’ll probably change where the plants are about ten times before he’s satisfied, but they all perk up with sunshine and water, sitting on their various shelves and tables. The apartment comes to life in only half an hour, picture frames on the wall and a rug on the living room floor, a sofa sitting on it, the small one from the townhouse.  
  
Credence didn’t bring the bed but Graves offers to transfigure the sofa for the night and gets a comfortable place for him to sleep in his bedroom.  
  
It looks good, when they’re finally done, and it’s heading on late afternoon. They’re both exhausted and Graves doesn’t particularly blame Credence when he does start crying.  
  
Thinks he would probably cry too, after the few days Credence has had.  
  
He’s close to crying from exhaustion himself but he lets Credence slump against him and rubs his back and tells him it’s going to be okay. He believes it and he hopes Credence will too soon enough.  
  
“Eat a little something, take a shower and go to bed,” Graves says. “Name your owl.”  
  
Credence laughs tearily and sniffs. He pulls away, looking a little embarrassed, and wipes his cheeks. “I will,” he says. “Thank you, Percy. For everything you’ve done for me.”  
  
“It was my pleasure, Credence,” Graves says. “Come see me when you’re ready.”  
  
“Okay. I will soon,” Credence says as he looks around the apartment. He smiles at his owl on her perch and his various plants, some stretching their leaves toward the sun and the others away from the windows shrinking away from it. “It’s nice to be home.”  
  
“I’m glad to hear it,” Graves says and squeezes Credence’s shoulder. “I’ll see you soon.”  
  
Credence walks Graves out and he looks like he wants to ask Graves to stay. And Graves wants to be asked to stay, Merlin save him, but he’s also half dead on his feet, craving his own food and his own whiskey and his own bed, and still thinks it’s a _very bad idea._  
  
So when Credence says good night, he thanks Merlin, and leaves.  
  
His apartment is a balm to his heart after the last two or so weeks and Graves is tempted to crawl into bed but he gets his own shower first, dinner from whatever he can throw together, and a triple of whiskey.  
  
It’s definitely one of the most satisfying drinks he’s had in a while and once he’s done, he goes to bed, thinking he’ll be out the moment his head hits the pillow, but he’s not.  
  
Credence is on his mind, however sluggish and intoxicated it is, and he wonders what might have happened if he stayed. If they would have simply had dinner together and conversation, or if it would have been more.  
  
If it might have actually been a good idea.  
  
That’s the alcohol, Graves is sure, because Credence has a long way to go. He may want Graves’ friendship through that and he’ll give it to him, if he keeps asking for it, but he shouldn’t give more than that. It could end badly and Credence might regret coming home, if it did.  
  
Graves isn’t entirely sure his thoughts make any sense, but it doesn’t matter because he’s asleep a moment later and won’t remember them in the morning.  
  
——  
  
A couple shots of espresso along with two cups of coffee gets Graves prepared for a long day at work.  
  
Barrows and Jauncey have done well in keeping the department moving the way it should but with ten of their seniors gone, and Graves and Fontaine, paperwork has piled up. He tells them to get on it and pulls his Captains into his office to get updates on what’s been happening in the city and to tell them how their time in Scotland had gone.  
  
Fontaine mentions their detour to Ireland, of course he does, but Graves uses it to tell them that Credence Barebone is a visitor he’s expecting, possibly more than once, and to let him through the department if he shows up.  
  
Fontaine eyes him for a while and Graves ignores him until Barrows and Jauncey get back to work. Or until Barrows does, Jauncey’s headed home after a long night shift.  
  
Graves and Fontaine share a moment of remembering their glasses of whiskey last night fondly before Fontaine is back to ribbing him about Credence. Graves truly does not give a shit, he knows he’s done well, Fontaine knows it too and he has no qualms about helping him.  
  
Fontaine says he’s smitten and Graves tells him to leave before he makes him.  
  
It’s not like he can deny it without it being a boldfaced lie. But the word bothers him. Smitten, like he’s a fourth year with his first crush on a sixth year he has no chance with.  
  
He has no chance with Credence either but that’s by his own choice.  
  
Still, when he doesn’t hear from Credence at all that day or in the evening before he prepares to head home, it smarts. A little. A lot, really, and Graves is also inexplicably terrified something has happened. He said soon, but not how soon. Nothing can possibly have gone wrong, short of Credence doing it himself, if he didn’t leave his apartment.  
  
But what if he had left his apartment? What if someone he used to run with recognized him?  
  
Graves realizes he’s never been so worried about another person that was not his sister in all his life. Not worried enough to pace his office and think of the worst possible outcome.  
  
He even told Credence to come when he was ready and Credence needs a few days of peace before that happens. Graves knows that, was going to tell him to do it himself, and yet the pesky _what if_ won’t leave his mind because Credence said _soon_ and he eventually curses, pulling out a pad of paper and a pen.  
  
He writes a quick letter and seals it before taking it down to the owlery. Graves is in no mood for Brooks’ bad attitude and though he’d like to use him, he’s the fastest they have, he bypasses him entirely for an owl he knows is still on his side.  
  
“Credence Barebone,” he tells her. “Don’t leave until he writes a reply. Please,” he adds. “He’s got his own owl, get some of her treats. Bring it straight to my office.”  
  
She hoots and takes the letter, flying out of the opened window and into the darkening sky, the sun nearly all the way set.  
  
Graves goes back to his department and stalks into his office, sitting down at his desk and looking at the mound of paper he’s been working through. He’s gotten a lot done but it still looks like he hasn’t even dented it and he craves going home and being done with the day, but not until he knows Credence is alright.  
  
It’s not even an hour later before the tawny owl swoops into his office through the opened door and lands on his desk. Graves sags in relief when he takes the letter and sees Credence’s handwriting, so familiar to him.  
  
He opens it and reads, his heart beating the way it had on that pier, something he wishes he could put a stop to.  
  
 _Percy,_ _  
_ _  
_ _I’m doing alright. I’ve been sleeping most of the day and trying to get used to this time zone. I was in Europe for so long but I have to say that the view out of my window this morning was a much better sight than I’ve seen in six years or so._ _  
_ _  
_ _I wasn’t able to fall asleep as fast as I thought I would last night. I listened to the noise outside and enjoyed it for a while. I hope the whiskey helped you get back on New York time a little more easily. I think I’ll need another day or two, so don’t worry about me. I’ll come by MACUSA once I feel like I’m not going to fall asleep on my feet._ _  
_ _  
_ _Thank you for checking in. Thank you for everything. I look forward to seeing you soon._ _  
_ _  
_ _Yours,_ _  
_ _  
_ _Credence_  
  
Graves leans back in his chair with a low groan and shakes his head. He’s behaving in a way that irks him, so unlike him to be concerned for other people outside of his small circle, but Merlin help him, he feels like Credence is becoming part of that circle.  
  
He knows Credence wants his friendship, he’s seen the way Credence looks at him now and then, he _has_ heard the way he says his name, he knows Credence wanted him to stay yesterday.  
  
He’s not alone in this. Probably alone in acting like a fool about it, but he’s concerned for Credence and his well being. He’s concerned about his mind as much as he’s concerned about everything else, but he can’t deny that the tears Credence has cried have been happy ones.  
  
Graves is going to have to firmly remind himself of all of this so he doesn’t spend tomorrow or the next day agonizing about Credence Barebone again.  
  
He feels wrung out now and writes Credence a short reply thanking him and encouraging him to write to him if he needs anything before he sends the owl off. He tells Barrows he’s going home and locks up his office before flooing into his apartment.  
  
Graves looks around it for a while and thinks Credence would look good here. But he isn’t going to think about that tonight.  
  
Tonight he’s going to make some good food, drink some good whiskey and read a good book and not think about Credence. He’d told himself they wouldn’t need to see each other after everything was settled and he wants to believe it, even if his heart is telling him something different.  
  
He goes to bed when he realizes he’s not seeing the words on the pages of his book, but thinking about how a plant or two might look in the apartment.  
  
——  
  
It’s easier to manage for the next couple of days.  
  
Abagnale gets home and once Healers have cleared him for work, he comes in the morning to a round of applause and cheers from everyone in the department. Tina Goldstein’s sister baked him a cake and Graves watches his Aurors with a fondness he doesn’t show.  
  
It took a good few years of work to make the department what he wanted it to be. Filled with the right people, sending off the Aurors he never trusted as he worked up the ranks to different departments throughout New York. He’s stricter than Director Wolfs had been in who he allows to apply to the training program - no Exceeds Expectations for him - and he finds he has a sharper and more serious team because of it.  
  
And that they’re closer to each other, that they trust each other more when they’re all relatively on the same level. It will always be a competitive career for those aiming for a higher position, but no one shits on anyone else for being behind because they’re all fairly equal.  
  
Some struggle in one area and some struggle in another and Graves reminds them often that aiding rather than belittling each other can mean the difference between life and death in the field, if they don’t trust each other.  
  
He trusts his three Captains with his life, knows each one of them would make a fantastic Director if he ever gets killed on the job, because he’s not retiring anytime soon.  
  
Graves is proud of what he’s accomplished and he’s proud of his Aurors.  
  
Still tells them to get back to work ten minutes later because no one is doing anything but eating cake and causing a ruckus, but they don’t complain.  
  
It’s about halfway through the day, as Graves is reading a report, his feet on his desk, thinking about having a pot of coffee sent up to get him through until at least seven, when he hears a familiar voice out on the floor through his opened office door.  
  
Graves pauses to listen before he lowers the report. “I know I don’t fucking hear Queenie Goldstein’s voice out there,” he barks, loud enough for his voice to carry.  
  
It goes quiet and Graves scowls when Queenie pokes her head around the door.  
  
“Hi, honey—”  
  
“If I have to forbid you from this floor one more fucking time, Miss Goldstein, I swear to Merlin I will send you to work for Missus Jenkins.”  
  
Queenie grimaces. “It’s just that—”  
  
“I truly do not care. Where is your sister?”  
  
“At lunch, honey, I was just going to meet her there.”  
  
“Then why are you in my department?”  
  
 _“Because,”_ Queenie says pointedly, “I was walkin’ through the lobby and heard someone say they were comin’ to meet with you and Laurie was just so busy, I offered to bring him up myself!”  
  
She steps into the office, her hand on the sleeve of Credence Barebone’s shirt, and he looks a little terrified, his cheeks pink.  
  
Graves stares at him for a moment, speech momentarily vanishing, simultaneously taken with how relieved he is to see Credence, how good he looks and how annoyed he is with Queenie.  
  
“I’m sorry if I shouldn’t have come up,” Credence says.  
  
“I told you you’re welcome here,” Graves says and points at Queenie. “You are not. Get out of my office and if I see you here again, I will forbid you from MACUSA entirely.”  
  
Queenie sighs and pats Credence’s shoulder as she looks at him. “He’s such a sweetheart, ain’t he?” she asks and winks. “Don’t you worry none, honey, I’m sure he’s as glad to see you as you are him. I’m goin’!” she adds when Graves glares at her.  
  
“Thank you,” Credence croaks. He watches her leave with a flutter of her hand, closing the door behind herself and looks at Graves with a grimace. “Please don’t fire her for bringing me up here.”  
  
“It’s not your fault she didn’t tell you she’s not allowed in here,” Graves grouses and gestures at the chair across from his. “I threaten firing her three times a week. Never does seem to faze her. Thankfully her visits to my department are few and far between these days.”  
  
“Is it because she’s a natural Legilimens?” Credence asks feebly as he walks to the chair and slumps into it. He glances around the office furtively, like he’s afraid he’ll see some dark artefact he isn’t supposed to.  
  
Graves smiles, unable to help it, reminded all too well of how charming Credence is. “Yes, it is,” he says. “I’ve got juniors out there still in Occlumency training and seniors who need to brush up on it now and then. It’s bad enough I know she lives with her sister, one of my juniors.”  
  
“Tina,” Credence sighs. “She was telling me about her on the way up. She invited me to have lunch with them.”  
  
Graves leans back and presses his knuckles against his chin. He’s not sure he likes that, but that’s not Credence’s problem. “Nice of her,” he says instead. “As long as she doesn’t make you uncomfortable.”  
  
“She doesn’t,” Credence says quickly. “Between the first and fourth floors on the lift she managed to make me like her even though I knew she was hearing everything I was thinking.” His cheeks are more rosy and he coughs. “Are you sure you’re not busy?”  
  
“I’m always busy,” Graves says. “But I’m allowed to not care for a while.” He smiles when Credence does, looking down at his lap. “How have you been?”  
  
“Good,” Credence says. “Better. Better than I have been for a long time, actually, and this is my first day going anywhere but the grocer’s. I’ve been catching up on a few years’ worth of sleep, I think. Getting to know my owl and getting half my plants to forgive me for putting them in a box.”  
  
Graves laughs and shakes his head. “Those fucking plants of yours,” he says. “I’m surprised none of them took more offense to Fontaine and I.”  
  
“They wouldn’t have with you,” Credence says and starts a little, looking embarrassed. “If Mister Fontaine got any meaner though, they might have.”  
  
“Hopefully they never have to see his face again,” Graves says. “I could go a while without seeing it myself.”  
  
Credence shakes his head and it looks fond. “He was nicer out there than the whole time we were in Europe. I think sunshine does you both some good. All of us, actually.”  
  
Graves thinks about his endless - and needless - concern about Credence and decides not to mention it. “Plants, people. We all benefit from a little sun here and there,” he says with amusement. “I’m glad you’re settling in, Credence.”  
  
“Me too,” Credence says with a smile. “I’m not sure how I feel about jumping into work I’m not really qualified for but I was thinking about what you said about finding a tutor for Defense. Maybe Herbology and Potions too. I think I could afford it.”  
  
Graves smiles as he watches Credence. He sounds genuinely eager, not afraid or feeling like he would disappoint anyone if he wasn’t doing something productive. He never got the chance to be normal, after all, to receive a normal education, and Graves can see why he’d want to learn before working.  
  
“There are tutors and classes for just about everything through MACUSA,” Graves says. “The Magical Education department can get you all the information you need. They’re on the second floor.”  
  
Credence nods and his eyes are brighter, more lively than Graves has seen them. He still looks like he rolled out of bed with that hair but Graves finds he wants to run his fingers through it and rues the day he found a message in a bottle not so long ago.  
  
“Queenie said I need an escort as a visitor,” Credence says. “She said this flashes red if I don’t have one.” He points at the badge on his breast pocket with his name written in bold letters.  
  
“I hate those fucking things,” Graves mutters. “You can take it off. Don’t worry,” he adds when Credence raises his eyebrows, “no one’s going to question you when you’re with me. We’ll go down to the second floor and get lunch after, if you’d like.”  
  
“Oh,” Credence says softly and with some surprise. “Okay. Yeah, I’d like that.” He takes the badge off and sets it on Graves’ desk, the letters fading to read _visitor_ now.  
  
“Should have one made that flashes red and screeches when Queenie gets onto this floor,” Graves says darkly as he stands and grabs his suit jacket, pulling it on.  
  
Credence laughs and stands as well, fidgeting with his sleeves. “I don’t get the impression that she’d tell anyone what she learns here. Or from her sister anyway.”  
  
“Maybe not,” Graves says. “But I trust very few people and I never say never. Anything can happen.”  
  
“That’s true,” Credence sighs and smiles. “She didn’t make fun of the things I was thinking. Or panicking about,” he mutters. “She probably doesn’t with you either.”  
  
Graves laughs. “You think anyone is breaking into my mind?” he asks and winks. “I am a fortress of privileged and dangerous information that only I will ever know. She tried a couple times, when we first met. Didn’t try again after that.”  
  
“You’re that good with Occlumency?”  
  
“Of course I am,” Graves says. “And Legilimency. When I need to be,” he adds dryly when Credence grimaces. “I need to concentrate, hers is on all the time whether she’d like it to be or not.”  
  
“That seems like a gift and a curse.”  
  
“I very much agree,” Graves says as they leave his office and he locks it up behind him. He firmly keeps his eyes forward so he doesn’t have to see Fontaine’s face. “For her and everyone she’s close to. Could’ve made a good Auror if she wasn't… everything else she is.”  
  
Credence laughs. “I like her,” he says and smiles. “Even when she was hearing all my embarrassing thoughts.”  
  
“I like her too,” Graves says as they walk down the hall and toward the lift. “Only reason she’s still working here. She’s heard the worst of the worst so I wouldn’t be worried about what’s on your mind.”  
  
“I can’t help that worry,” Credence says. “For a lot of reasons. When I realized she was in my head, I thought about everything I wanted to hide.”  
  
Graves smiles and presses the button for the lift clanging somewhere below. “That’s what Occlumency helps us avoid. Our minds jump straight to what we want to keep hidden when someone is in our heads. Training them to focus on other things while someone is there is hard work. So don’t worry about it if you go to lunch with her. You are not the type of person to have concerning thoughts.”  
  
“How do you know?” Credence asks but he’s smiling.  
  
“Didn’t I tell you? You have a candor and genuineness to you I don’t see in many people. The type of person to easily make friends. And look at you, already doing just that.”  
  
“I’ve never felt like that before,” Credence says. They step onto the lift and he chews on his lip. “You know the type of people I tended to run into.”  
  
“Bad luck,” Graves sighs. “That I hope you never have again.”  
  
They step off the lift a moment later and into a quiet hall - two floors below the Auror department - and Graves looks at Credence when he doesn’t follow. He looks worried again and Graves knows that he’s going to be worried for a long while, but he wishes he could help more.  
  
“I’m glad you brought me home, Percy,” Credence says as he looks at Graves, his eyes bright. “I’m glad I’m right here with you than stuck in that townhouse in Belfast. It was getting hard to imagine I’d make it to my thirtieth birthday.”  
  
Graves smiles and gently squeezes Credence’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re here too, Credence. When is your birthday, by the way?”  
  
Credence laughs and scrubs at his eye. “November 27th,” he says and sniffs.  
  
Graves raises his eyebrows. “It was your birthday when you wrote the letter?”  
  
“Yeah,” Credence sighs. “I went to the beach to try and clear my head a little. Birthdays have never been good for me. It was so cold but it was really beautiful too and I saw the bottle in the sand. Like it was waiting for me. It took my mind off of everything else when I wrote it and made that day better. I really never thought anyone would find it. Or that if someone did find it, they’d laugh and throw it away. But you found it.”  
  
“I did,” Graves says quietly. He moves his hand to Credence’s cheek and brushes away another tear under his eye. “I’m very glad I did. In my job coincidences are only dots to connect. Magic is different. It tends to behave in ways we’re all sure it shouldn’t.”  
  
“You don’t think you found it by chance,” Credence says with a smile and leans into Graves’ hand. “I don’t think so either. I hope that… that when everything is good and I’ve finally found normal, a normal routine… I hope you’ll still be here.”  
  
Graves has been hoping - dearly hoping - for the opposite. Because he doesn’t have time, because he doesn’t know how to deal with something more meaningful and his job simultaneously, because he doesn’t know how to deal with the things he feels for Credence. Because he’s just plain scared too.  
  
But he knows he was lying to himself when he’d thought he could stay away. That they’d live separate lives once Credence had settled in and found his normal. That they wouldn’t have reason to see each other anymore.  
  
Of course they will. A damn message in a bottle brought them together and there’s no ignoring there’s magic at work here.  
  
So maybe Graves should forget his own fucking worries and lean into it. Lean into it and give Credence something he wants too, and help him in a deeper, more personal way.  
  
“I will be,” Graves says. “I’d like to be there when you find that. It means something to me too, to watch you find home and to see you smile. I’d like to keep seeing you smile.”  
  
Credence does smile then, wide and achingly beautiful, the one that makes his eyes and nose scrunch up, just a little, and Graves wants to kiss him.  
  
Rather desperately wants to kiss him.  
  
But there are voices coming down the hall, so he only smiles and brushes his thumb along Credence’s cheekbone before pulling away.  
  
“Come on,” Graves says. “Let’s get you sorted.”  
  
“Thank you, Percy,” Credence says softly when they set off down the hall.  
  
Their hands occasionally brush together as they head for the higher learning and specialty courses department and Graves wants to take Credence’s hand, but he won’t yet.  
  
Not in front of people he doesn’t know before he’s gotten a chance to confirm they are on the same page. And not before he’s even kissed Credence, which he thinks is going to be on his mind for the rest of the day.  
  
But it’s easy to get distracted when they talk to various people about what Credence wants and might need, how much it would be, how long it will take, and a few other details.  
  
Credence signs up for tutoring in Potions and Defense and a course in Herbology to earn a certificate that Mister Price will be happy to see. He doesn’t need any of it to get a job downstairs but Graves is glad to see Credence wants to earn it, wants to be more qualified and do it on his own rather than through Graves.  
  
He was never going to be as broken as Graves expected when he first read that letter. Credence has already made immense strides in only a few days and Graves is inordinately proud of him for knowing him so little.  
  
But that letter put a certain sort of understanding between them that would have otherwise taken a long time to get to.  
  
Once Credence has been given about fifteen pamphlets and various information sheets about what he’ll be doing, they tell him new applications will be approved by the end of May and to send his in as soon as he’s done filling them out.  
  
He carries the large folder close when they leave and Graves takes him to the cafeteria. It’s brightly lit, filled with quite a lot of people, normally a place Graves actively avoids, but Credence looks happy to be there. Not nervous, as Graves expected he might be.  
  
It’s going to be a hard thing, Graves is realizing, not giving Credence whatever the hell he wants.  
  
Graves gets food and his coffee finally, while Credence drinks tea, a habit Graves will just have to live with. It’s not so bad when he listens to Credence talk about the various things the Magical Education department told him and what he’s excited about.  
  
It’s that zest and affinity for life that clung to him even after all he went through, one of the first things Graves really gleaned about Credence Barebone, and it’s only gotten better from there.  
  
When they’re done at the cafeteria, they walk down the busier halls of the second floor and stop at the top of the large staircase leading down into the lobby.  
  
Graves wants to take Credence back upstairs to his office. He’d like to kiss him and tell him what he wants and ask if Credence wants the same thing. But he’s got a stack of paperwork waiting for him and he doesn’t think he’d get any work done for the rest of the day if he did.  
  
Credence smiles and he looks like he’s guessing something similar. “Thank you,” he says. “For today. For everything, as always,” he adds with a grin. “I like it here.”  
  
“Not such a bad place, is it?” Graves asks with a smirk. “It’ll be nice to see you working here every day.”  
  
“Hopefully not too long from now,” Credence says as he holds the folder a little closer. He bites his lip and looks at his hands before glancing at Graves again and he looks nervous. “You should come to the apartment soon. See what I’ve done with it. I think you’d like it.”  
  
Graves certainly can’t mistake that for anything else. Some part of him still wants to say no, probably the part that remembers everything going to shit before with other people, but that was a long time ago. He smiles instead.  
  
“Sure,” he says. “I’d love to see it. When did you have in mind?”  
  
“I’m free until at least the end of May,” Credence says and grins when Graves nods in wry agreement. “Whenever you have the time, I know you’re busy. Tomorrow night, maybe? Do you work Saturdays?”  
  
“I do, but usually only until three or four rather than seven or eight,” Graves chuckles. “I’ll come over around five.”  
  
“Good,” Credence sighs and sounds relieved. “I’ll see you then. Bye, Percy.”  
  
“Goodbye, Credence,” Graves says with a smile and watches him walk down the stairs. Once he’s gone, Graves takes the lift back up to his department.  
  
By the time he’s back in his office and has opened the report he had been in the middle of before, Fontaine appears in his doorway and Graves glances at him, raising an eyebrow before he looks back at the report.  
  
 _“Well?”_  
  
“Well what?”  
  
“Are we still on for tonight or have you got other plans now?”  
  
“Miss Friday night drinking with you, Fontaine? I would never,” Graves says mildly. “Twenty year tradition going strong.”  
  
“Oh, good. _And?”_  
  
 _“And_ what?”  
  
“Started out with aiding our fellow wizard in need. Ending that way?”  
  
Graves shrugs and flips a page in the report. “It might not. Only time will tell.”  
  
“Only time will tell how fast I’m getting fitted for a tuxedo,” Fontaine says dryly. “Eldora wants to meet him.”  
  
“Maybe after Credence and I share a damn minute or two alone, she can,” Graves says and waves his hand dismissively. “Get out of my office.”  
  
 _“Credence,”_ Fontaine says. “I hear the way you say it too. I do believe I told you so. Merlin save us all, Percival Graves in love.”  
  
He leaves before Graves has to curse him. He reads through the rest of the report instead, with a smile he doesn’t bother putting a stop to.  
  
——  
  
Graves is very fond of Fontaine’s wife Eldora. Even when he walks into the bar that night and sees her, he plays annoyed for a while, but he doesn’t mind. She’s rarely there, calls it their _big_ _boys’ time_ and they tend to have dinner once or twice a month outside of that.  
  
She teases him like Fontaine does but she also wants to know all about what happened in Scotland and Ireland and she wants to know about Credence too.  
  
Graves doesn’t say much, not yet, because he has yet to spend any meaningful time alone with Credence. But he likes him, he likes him very much, and that seems to appease her for now.  
  
It’s a good time with Eldora, who teases Fontaine as much as she teases Graves, and she can hold her liquor the same as they can, if not better. Graves finds that he laughs more with them than he’s probably ever laughed with anyone before and knows he’s lucky to have them in his life.  
  
These types of friends, which he never really thought he’d have when he was starting in Ilvermorny or when he was starting in the Auror training program, are a rare gift, he knows. Fontaine was there for all of it, but they’ve stuck with their friendship and though they won’t admit it, they love each other.  
  
It’s about the only reason Graves doesn’t curse him on a daily basis.  
  
It makes him feel good too, to know they want to know Credence, that Eldora wants to meet him, that she’s excited to even, after Fontaine told her about Belfast. Graves makes fun of him for having nice things to say about anyone, but he’s glad for that too.  
  
Graves has a feeling he’s going to be a lot closer to Queenie and Tina Goldstein than he ever expected to be someday, if Credence makes friends with them, and Credence will join him with Fontaine and Eldora. He doesn’t think Credence would have a problem fitting in anywhere. He’s too damn charming and while he’s quiet and anxious a lot of the time, Graves has seen how animated he can be when he’s having a good time.  
  
Graves will try to keep their friend groups separated because he thinks they’d all raze Manhattan if they went out drinking one night and Credence wouldn’t be able to stop it.  
  
He goes home feeling good that night. Feeling better than he has in a long time and tomorrow will be a slow day, he suspects, but he’ll see Credence soon enough.  
  
He falls asleep that night with his hand in the space that’s been empty beside him in bed for a very long time.  
  
Saturday mornings are always slower because of Friday nights but Graves is glad to take his time with breakfast and coffee and reading the paper.  
  
Especially because it’s a shitshow when he finally floos into work. Jauncey is still there, though her shift ended a couple hours ago, and she’s working with Barrows to get a situation down at the docks taken care of. Seniors have already gone and Graves suspects they were going to ask him to come in only minutes before he did.  
  
Smuggling illegal potions ingredients from Europe is risky not only because of Aurors finding out about it, but other sellers finding out about it too. Territorial disputes and theft and a good wand fight at eight in the morning to start his day off, just what Graves always loves to see on a Saturday.  
  
He spends most of his morning taking a look at the scene when it’s been cleared of witches and wizards before he goes back to MACUSA and has a few long chats with them. It’s always difficult to not ask them just what in the fuck they were thinking - though he can’t resist asking some if their mothers know what they’re doing because it gets them angry and anger tends to make them talk and point fingers elsewhere - and Graves has a harder time of it today because he thinks of Credence.  
  
Of these types of people forcing Credence to handle their illegally smuggled goods. A good man trying to escape shit people and never getting the chance to because of the endless predators he came across.  
  
Graves has no qualms about charging them with as much as he can, no real leniency offered to any of them because they’d all used their wands today, and wipes his hands clean once he’s written and filed the charges.  
  
It’s taken up most of the day, Graves is pleasantly surprised to see, and he spends an hour or two working on paperwork before he leaves Barrows to it. He floos home and showers, getting into more casual clothes after and idly thinking Credence hasn’t seen him in anything casual and how fucking nice it’ll be to not worry about the outside world for a while.  
  
A little before five, Graves leaves his apartment and Disapparates to Credence’s building. The area still isn’t as nice as he’d like and too filled with no-majs but Credence seems happy here already, so Graves will take it.  
  
He walks into the building and up to Credence’s apartment. He realizes his stomach is fluttering when he raises his hand to knock and decides to roll with it, because Credence is likely going to keep making him feel things he hasn’t felt in ages - or ever - and he can’t be mad about that.  
  
Graves knocks and it doesn’t take long for Credence to answer.  
  
“Hi, Percy,” Credence says somewhat breathlessly, smiling, wide and with a tinge of relief to it, like he thought Graves might not show up.  
  
“Credence,” Graves says with a smile and steps inside when Credence gestures him in. “Shit,” he says with a chuckle as he looks around.  
  
Credence has made the apartment his own. There are about five new artful and sand-colored shelves and stands for even more plants, it seems, splashes of greens and whites and brighter, flashier yellows and pinks. The walls are creamy and the hardwood floors and cabinets in the kitchen are all light, as is all of the furniture, so different from his own apartment, but it makes the splashes of color pop even more. It’s bright and airy and with a softness that he can’t help but immediately be comfortable here.  
  
He has more sketches and paintings on the walls and Credence’s sketch pads are scattered everywhere again, just like when Graves first stepped into the townhouse.  
  
His owl is on a perch near one of the windows and Credence has transfigured it to look like a thick tree branch so she can perch between various plants. She hoots when Graves looks at her and he smiles.  
  
“This is perfect, Credence. Fits you,” Graves says and looks at Credence, who is smiling as he looks around as well. “What’s her name?”  
  
“Brigid,” Credence says and he looks like he expects Graves to have something negative to say about it.  
  
Graves can’t wait for the day Credence realizes he’s absolutely fucked and completely head over heels for him and will never have a single negative thing to say to just about anything to do with him.  
  
“Fits her too,” Graves says with a smile. “Have you written them?”  
  
Credence nods. “Yeah,” he says and smiles faintly. “The day after we got home so it’ll be a little while before I hear back. I hope they’re alright.”  
  
“They are,” Graves says. “I’m confident in everything we discussed with the Ministry. For both you and them.”  
  
“Thank you,” Credence says. “That does make me feel a little better. You can sit, if you want. I’m… kind of sick and tired of cooking for now, but I ordered food, if you’re hungry. I can heat it up.”  
  
Graves smiles as he watches Credence tugging at the ends of his sleeves, nervous, and thinks he should put him at ease.  
  
“Credence,” he says and waits for Credence to look at him before he gestures him closer. “Come here.”  
  
Credence looks more relieved by this than anything and comes willingly, until they’re wrapped around each other. He puts his head on Graves’ shoulder, something he seems to like doing, and Graves rubs his back.  
  
“Sounds perfect to me,” Graves says and brushes his fingers through Credence’s hair, as soft as he expected it to be, no matter how wild it looks, even if it’s only a handful of inches long. “Is there a dining table hidden in all those plants?”  
  
Credence laughs and his fingers tighten on Graves’ shirt. “I have my meals on the sofa,” he says. “Because I’ve done that ever since I was finally able to be on my own and no one was around to tell me I couldn’t. I hope you don’t mind.”  
  
“Not at all,” Graves says with a smirk. “I got into a similar habit after leaving home.” He pulls back and squeezes Credence’s shoulders. “Anything I can do?”  
  
Credence smiles and shakes his head. “No, just get comfortable. What do you want to drink?”  
  
“What options do I have?”  
  
“No whiskey, sorry. Tea, water or pumpkin juice.”  
  
“We’ve got to banish the European out of you one of these days,” Graves says and chuckles when Credence grins cheekily. “Pumpkin juice, I suppose. Please,” he adds and moves his hand down to squeeze Credence’s.  
  
Credence nods, still smiling, and Graves watches him walk into the kitchen. He moves to the sofa and sits down himself. It’s larger and more comfortable than the one he transfigured into a bed for Credence. It fits the space. All of it fits and all of it says _Credence_ and Graves supposes he should be thankful he’s allowed to be a part of it at all.  
  
Brigid flutters onto the sofa next to him and hoots a hello. He scratches her cheek and smiles as she turns her head this way and that for the good spots.  
  
“Has he been doing alright?” he asks her.  
  
She chatters happily and Graves chuckles and supposes that’s good enough.  
  
“Good,” he says. “Thanks for keeping him company.”  
  
Brigid nips his sleeve affectionately and Graves looks at the kitchen. Credence waves his wand in a way that says, despite no education, he’s good with it. There’s an elegance to the way he does it that Graves typically only sees with people who are comfortable with a stronger magic than most.  
  
Getting to know Credence is something he’s looking forward to, getting to know the little things and the bigger ones, but he thinks he can guess that Credence won’t have much trouble getting through classes and the Herbology certificate course.  
  
Credence brings drinks and dinner, which is chicken piccata and carbonara, also with chicken and cured pork, both of which Graves is a fan of.  
  
They eat dinner and Graves tells Credence about his thrilling morning when he asks and laughs when Credence gapes at him, even if he was involved now and then with this very thing. Graves tells him this wasn’t even one of the more exciting days and Credence says he’ll just have to get used to that. He turns red after he’s said it and stutters for a while about assuming too much and Graves kisses his cheek to get him to stop.  
  
It works and Credence smiles through the rest of dinner, like he can’t help but do so.  
  
Making sure they’re on the same page isn’t so difficult, Graves realizes, and thinks he should have known that. Because after they share a piece of freshly made tiramisu, Graves asks Credence if he can kiss him and Credence eagerly says yes.  
  
Slow and sweet, lingering kisses eventually turn into more heated ones, until Credence is straddling his waist, his hands on Graves’ cheeks and leading the kiss. Graves is all too happy to follow.  
  
He does have the thought that this is too soon, that they barely know each other, but that’s not entirely true. They have so much more to learn about each other but their relationship started with Graves learning about Credence in an intimate sort of way, connecting to him through their shared experiences, through the magic that made it happen.  
  
They’d both probably only suffer if he suggested taking it slow and Graves is still mildly terrified about this, but Credence tastes like coffee and cream and his fingers in his hair feels divine.  
  
Credence helps Graves out of his shirt before he takes his own off and Graves sees he’s more solid than he looks, lean but not in an unhealthy sort of way. His pallor is healthier too, not so ashy but white and pink, his eyes and smile so much brighter than they were only a week ago.  
  
“You’re beautiful, Credence,” Graves says as he holds onto Credence’s hips. “Fucking stunning, actually.”  
  
Credence huffs a laugh, his cheeks rosy. “I’m glad you think so,” he mutters and clearly doesn’t agree. “You’re beautiful too, Percy.” He leans in and kisses Graves again.  
  
Graves slides his hand to Credence’s back and when he feels scars, numerous scars, so many scars that it’s shocking enough for him to pull back and look up at Credence.  
  
“Later,” Credence whispers. “Please, Percy, later.”  
  
He looks scared, nearly terrified, and Graves doesn’t know if it’s because of what happened to him or if it’s because he thinks Graves is going to walk away.  
  
Walking away is the last thing on his mind. It makes him angry, angry enough that he has a hard time not letting it show, and he knows these are from Credence’s mother because he’d said she tried to beat it out of him. It makes him want to go to Pike Street and talk to Mary Lou Barebone, but that’s not what Credence needs or what he’ll ever want.  
  
So Graves pulls him down for another kiss instead and Credence doesn’t shy away from his hands on his back, so he keeps them there. They don’t turn him off, they don’t make him want to do anything but hold Credence closer today and chase away the fear in his eyes.  
  
Credence eventually suggests the bedroom and Graves is done telling himself he should say no. He simply follows where Credence leads him.  
  
His bedroom is as much _Credence_ as the rest of the apartment. There are only a few plants in here, bookshelves and a wardrobe and his bed take up most of the space.  
  
Graves sees a familiar bottle on one the shelves with rolled up parchment inside. He’d told Credence to keep it when they were leaving Belfast, something to help him see now and then how far he’s moved beyond there. He smiles and so does Credence, his eyes bright, and Graves thinks it’s already helped.  
  
They fall into bed after undressing each other. Their kisses and touches are slow, unhurried, and Graves takes his time in getting to know Credence’s body, what makes him shiver and gasp and say Graves’ name. What makes him moan and what makes him ask for more.  
  
Their lovemaking is as gentle and slow as everything else. Their foreheads are pressed together if they’re not kissing, if Graves isn’t trailing his lips down Credence’s neck and over his shoulder. Credence’s hands caress him, his back and shoulders and arms and the way he tips his head back and whispers Graves’ name is as beautiful as when he laughs, when he smiles.  
  
They reach their climaxes together and Graves watches Credence’s through a haze of arousal and knows he wants Credence for as long as Credence is willing to give himself. All of him, here and beyond, if they’re lucky enough.  
  
When Credence asks him to stay the night, Graves is happy to say yes.  
  
Their morning is slow and intimate in just about everything they do, from showering to eating breakfast and drinking coffee (or tea) and holding each other on the sofa. Credence tells Graves what all of his plants are and what they can do or offer, some of which Graves knows, some of which he doesn’t. He watches Credence gesture and ramble about them, about the things he might do with the botany department, with a fond smile.  
  
He first met the type of person Credence is on a cold day in Scotland, cursing the rain and dark wizards, when he heard a bottle tinkling against rocks and read words of pain, plainly and openly, written just for him.  
  
He met Credence on a cold and rainy day in Ireland and he brought him back home and he can only hope he has enough to offer to help Credence find his normal, find what it means for him to be happy in his life.  
  
Graves brought home a young man that wasn’t as broken as he thought he might be and he looks forward to watching him grow and flourish on his own, the way Credence wants it to be.  
  
——  
  
It turns out that Credence doesn’t need all that much tutoring in Potions because he has a natural knack for it and he gains what is equivalent to a HARE in just a few short months.  
  
The Herbology course is easy for him, twelve weeks of very little stress and a lot more excitement learning more about the magical and non-magical flora of the world, and he earns that certificate with a letter of recommendation from the professor who taught the course.  
  
Defense is more difficult for him but he happens to be sharing his life with Graves, who tells Credence often he is the best in defense in America, just to watch him roll his eyes. But he does take Graves’ help and Graves gets to watch his wand work, quick and precise and elegant, and it’s about the only thing he’s glad for that Credence missed Ilvermorny, because he might have been in his own department if he hadn’t.  
  
His magic is powerful and though plants are what attracted him the most, Graves isn’t as concerned when Credence is out and about. He might feel sorry for anyone that came across Credence these days, if he ran into old, familiar faces.  
  
When Credence applies to the Magical Botany and Phytology department in MACUSA, Graves doesn’t offer his assistance, because he knows Credence is a shoo-in.  
  
The next meeting he has with all of the department heads and Sera to give updates on various things in MACUSA, and Mister Price mentions a new hire that he suspects will run the department one day, Graves can only smile.  
  
He doesn’t tell Credence because it’d fluster him too much but he is immensely proud of him.  
  
Credence does become good friends with Queenie and Tina Goldstein and though Graves mutters darkly about it now and then, he is forced to get to know them on a more personal level too and he likes them more than he already did. He’s fond of Tina, and has been since she stuttered her way through her interview until she got to her own accomplishments and spoke with a surety he looks for in new hires.  
  
Queenie still isn’t allowed in his department but he thinks Credence must have convinced her to never try again out of his love for Graves and wanting to keep his blood pressure down.  
  
And Credence fits in as well with Fontaine and Eldora as Graves expected he might, once he gets over being intimidated by Fontaine and Fontaine moves from _suspicious_ to _assuring that he will arrest anyone who does him wrong,_ something Graves will lord over him for the rest of his life.  
  
Credence’s friends in Belfast write to him monthly and he writes them back and tells Graves they’re happy and Graves tells him they’ll invite them over one of these days. Maybe after the New Year.  
  
By the time November is approaching, and Credence’s twenty-ninth birthday, only a year away from what Graves plans to make a very satisfying thirtieth, he is more madly in love with Credence than he could have imagined.  
  
Credence feels the same way, thank Merlin, and he moves in with Graves a week before his birthday.  
  
He’s not sad to see the apartment go, he’s stayed with Graves countless times by now, but when he says he’ll miss his furniture, Graves only scoffs and moves it all into his apartment. He’s got the room and an eye for what looks good with what and soon their home is a perfect mix of them both.  
  
A lot of plants, maybe, but Graves is fond of them too.  
  
Credence doesn’t want to do anything special for his birthday, not really, still influenced by twenty-eight years of terrible birthdays, Graves suspects, but he does get a full cake from Queenie and a stack of books from Tina and Eldora as well as a charmed ceramic bowl from Eliza that Credence frowns at for a while before he figures it out. Eliza and her charms, Graves thinks with a smile, when the ceramic bowl swirls into a potted plant, a small sapling in the middle, a rare and tiny magical tree all the way from China, apparently, that makes Credence wipe at his eyes for a while.  
  
Graves makes him his favorite dinner, chicken piccata and a lot of garlic bread to go with it, and they have a normal night in. Credence seems happy, immensely so, and he tells Graves he is that night and thanks him for everything, like always.  
  
When Credence goes into the bedroom later to change into pajamas, Graves puts his second present on the coffee table. He’s already given him a set of blankets that change material depending on the time of the year, something Credence was absolutely thrilled to get, to Graves’ endless amusement.  
  
“Okay,” Credence says as he walks back into the living room. “I think you were right that this was going to be a pleasant day.”  
  
“I am right about a great many things. You always seem surprised,” Graves says as he lounges on the sofa with a book in his hands. He smiles when Credence pauses and stares at the coffee table.  
  
He looks at Graves and his eyes are bright with sudden tears, but he’s smiling, a smile tinged with affection, thank Merlin, so Graves thinks he’s done something right too.  
  
Credence sits down and picks up the glass milk bottle, sealed tight, parchment rolled up inside of it. He bites his lip as he unseals it with his wand, pulls out the cork and parchment. He unrolls it and begins to read and Graves smiles, turning back to his book.  
  
 _Dear Credence, my love,_ _  
_ _  
_ _I never thought I’d write a message in a bottle. I think I am now because of the whimsy of it, the hope that came from reading one of my own, and because I am in love in a way I’ve never experienced in my life._ _  
_ _  
_ _You know most of my story by now. I know most of yours. The hard beginnings and different paths that we both took, willingly or unwillingly as they might have been, but we finally managed to meet on the same one._ _  
_ _  
_ _We’ve taken a journey together - a short one so far but I hope that you’ll continue the journey with me for the rest of our lives - and I think that what you said had to have been true. That looking at the horizon, where earth meets sky, does give you the answers you’re looking for. You opened your door and saw me and I saw you too without knowing I’d been waiting to meet you._ _  
_ _  
_ _We know each other, intimately and genuinely, but there are some things I haven’t told you about my story yet. The story I never expected to have, the story you’ve given me, and I hope when you read this that it manages to brighten your own._ _  
_ _  
_ _You are part of my story now and these are the things written in its pages that I haven’t shared. The little things, the small details that you might not notice except the second or third time through._ _  
_ _  
_ _The way you smile when you’re watering your plants and the way you hum a song when you do. The way your nose wrinkles when you laugh. The way you run your hands through your hair when you’re concentrating on anything at all and the very reason it always looks so untamable, which I hope you never change._ _  
_ _  
_ _The way you talk to people, with an open friendliness and soft-heartedness I’ve never seen before, and the way people stop and look at you when you do. The way you always have a kind word to say about someone you spoke with during your day._ _  
_ _  
_ _These things might suggest a kind and gentle sense of humor but it’s dry and razor-edged when you’re in the mood and the way you get me to laugh when you are is another page in my story._ _  
_ _  
_ _You must know there are fifteen blankets in the apartment but I don’t think you know how much you light up when you see one you like, wherever we are, or the way I fall more in love with you when you do._ _  
_ _  
_ _There are so many more little things and small details that I see and that I love about you, but I think I’ll keep a few of them to myself. I think you might be able to understand this more than others because you notice the small things about life that I often overlook._ _  
_ _  
_ _I consider myself very fortunate that I have you to show them to me._ _  
_ _  
_ _You make America, New York, Manhattan, MACUSA, the apartment and my life all the more beautiful for your presence in them. And you were right, as you so often are, that watching the sunrise always offers hope and even more so when I get to watch it with you by my side._ _  
_ _  
_ _Every day that I look at you, Credence, I have the hope that things can only get better from here, all thanks to you._ _  
_ _  
_ _I love you._ _  
_ _  
_ _The luckiest bastard in the world and forever yours,_ _  
_ _  
_ _Percy_ _  
_ _  
_ _11-27-29_  
  
Graves looks at Credence when he laughs tearily and watches him wipe his cheeks. He looks at Graves with that wide and dazzling smile of his, one of the best ones yet, and sets the bottle and letter aise.  
  
He barely has time to toss his book aside before Credence is in his arms and he’s being kissed soundly. Graves holds Credence to him, a warm and pleasant weight against his chest. Credence kisses him like it’s his first time doing so and Graves is all too happy to follow.  
  
When they break apart, Credence presses his forehead against Graves’, his eyes still squeezed shut. “I love you too, Percy,” he whispers. “Thank you. For everything, as always.”  
  
“Thank _you,_ love,” Graves says and presses a gentler kiss to Credence’s lips. “For everything, as always.”  
  
They stay like that for a long while, breathing in the scent of sweet wood burning in the fireplace and listening to the crackling of it, gentle and comforting.  
  
Credence rests his head on Graves’ shoulder, one of those small details he keeps to himself, and he runs his fingers through his hair and kisses the back of his head. His heart is beating in time with Graves’ own and he savors the feeling, something he knows he’s going to keep close to him, wherever he goes.  
  
“Percy?”  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“Your sister gave me a Class Four tree.”  
  
Graves raises his eyebrows before sighing, long and slow. “Well, fuck,” he says and laughs.  
  
“I’ll bring it into work,” Credence says and looks at Graves with a grin. “Mister Price will cry when he sees it. We don’t have one in the department.”  
  
Graves laughs more and so does Credence. They laugh through a few kisses, until Credence gets up to place the message in a bottle next to the one that started it all on one of their bookshelves.  
  
Pain, written plainly and openly, and love, written plainly and openly, and their journey together through healing and life in between.

**Author's Note:**

> god it's just. it's just fluff. I do hate making Credence miss Ilvermorny so next AU he goes!! My forever HCs for Credence: plants, drawing and blankets. Hope you enjoyed it c: I'd love to hear from you.
> 
> Thanks, as always and forever, to Erin and my Mom!! <333
> 
> [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/vtforpedro)


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